QUANDRY
She sat upon a rock and had a cry
While tiny wavelets slithered round her feet,
The sun descended in the silent sky.
Its dying embers made her day complete.
A happy ending this - or was it sad?
She knew the day would come and come it did.
But how can things be good when they're so bad?
She didn't to the right thing - yet she did.
For long enough the hands of time stood still,
Tomorrow was at very best a dream.
There was no future, no way, nor no will;
No certainty and certainly no scheme.
Yet somehow something in the guise of fate
Stepped in and wound things up. Too soon. Too late.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem