I feel coldness seeping
through these fabrics
threads are cooperating
poorly to purpose of
I curl to French bread
works well I bed good
also cover my busy head
I reach to my other pillow
to crush to hug to nurture
working to my satisfaction
I journey quietly towards
length of my green farmland
flying across like butterfly
to slowly succumb to sleep
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem