It was a pure
bright day.
Purple mountain
resting its head
upon a
white fluffy cloud
wearing a bright green
forest on its feet
as if the world
had been drawn
by a child
who had just begun
to colour it in
& who every now
& then
coloured outside
the lines.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Simple words that project a vibrant picture on this readers mind...love it Donall! j x