Roundelay Poem by Sally Plumb Plumb
Roundelay
You are softly,
softly,
in my head
attempting to stop
the tumbalance
of my see saw brain,
with gentle sounds
softly, speaking
gently, gently.
My memory cools
and slows again.
Then I relax,
all thought is dead
I think you've left,
and then the see saw
rises and falls
in racing moods
pacing my memory,
catching a thread
of you departing,
and then you are.....
softly, softly....
waf
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/3/2024 7:53:40 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Poetic invocation of how her moods are determined by somebody else's influence.
Thanks for your comment, Julia.