She asked me why my pen is sad
ink Heavy blood and foul
Stumbling walking, lame
Vaguely thought
Strange alphabet
Thinking in her words
I looked to the sky
Traveling cloud
Blocked sunlight
Moment
Left and brighten the sun
I smiled and told her
You are the clouds and I am the sun
Your pen inspired her to ask, Her question inspired you to find the answer, and your answer may inspired her for more question or a satisfaction or sensation before she lend you another inspiration and it recycling all over again :) it's rule of life maybe_Unwritten Soul
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nicely done and, having two daughters myself, I appreciate the sentiment. Thanks