Unusual thoughts,
ideas turn,
moving forward with
paper and pen,
singing songs in the car
losing inhibitions, as
whisky warms the
wet falling snowflakes,
flying into the wind,
what's done is done,
faint smiles conceal
the wounded heart
vanquished in loss
hiding fragile dreams,
sleeping in the shadows,
passing time in doubt,
by the wishing well,
with paper lanterns
hanging from trees
in the backyard.
The wind picks up,
blowing in goodbyes,
when we all take leave
of our irrevocable wings.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem