Tonight the soft rain comes
and the wind slices whistling blind sounds
cutting a forlorn song's stanzas,
Rhymes shredded surreptitiously
by congested ghosts and throats
into unrecognizable bits
as we two, asexual nightcrawlers,
come slowly out of the ground,
squirm around in the mud
then crawl into bed.
We get comfortable on our individual sides
then fall asleep after a kiss on the cheek
to dream mostly about nothing
except for an occasional nightmare.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nicely done! ! ! Well written poem! Keep it up! God bless! -Pink Butterfly-