She calls me in the cold dark morning
From five thousand miles away
I hear the mobile chirrup and my heart
Knots with the familiar slight dread
I hear her voice harsh as a crow's foot
Scraping a dead branch in winter snow
'Get me out of here! ' she cries
'Get me out now or I will be dead soon!
They have kidnapped me! '
I can see her rolling eyes
And her mouth twisted in an old face
But I cannot help; the time is long gone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'Painfully Yours' type poem...steep end... that's the magic of poetic climax find in your crafting...tenner Regards niv