Pick one off of its support.
Throw it down a hill.
Go! Faster! Faster!
Oh fiersome, glowing suns.
It's luck, physics
Keeping you mine.
Winner of mine.
The last corner,
Pick you up.
Kill the winner.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Jill, I love this poem. It screams wonderful summer day. I see it and I want to stand on that hill and throw my miniature sun. Peace, L&T