A hand of love,
Spoke to me now.
That why do I Write,
When she is not right.
I yelled at her,
Little with care.
Made she see,
The she in me.
Stolen was I,
When I opened my eyes.
It was instantly,
Raining and drizzling out.
Am chilled and she is in doubt.
Dated: 23/09/2016
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Little written...lot to mull. Wonder whether interpretations match