My Mr. Big Loved:
Spinning self-centered tales-
He was like the city himself;
Cold, exhausting and infuriating...
Much later in our relationship-
When i washed the city off of my face-
I could clearly see in my mirror of past reflection;
Its not the journey but the destination-
And upon arriving:
Its the learning-
The seeing-
The understanding-
The revealing-
The rescueing-
The saving-
From an almost disaterous end-
That was awaiting me just-
'Round Prevaricators Bend...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem