Sunday morning. I dust my alphabets to a shine
To build you a dainty rhyme.But you wake up
Red-eyed from your nightmare
Like the Loch-ness monster.
You'll be sorry later, but that
Orange -flared breath in your eyes
Scorched my wafer thin poems
To paper thin sighs.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem