Chipped fuschia nails
Constantly tapped themselves
On a weary scratched phone
For a simple message
Digital yet with effort
Traveling through
Panoramic dusts and bunnies
Shaking legs on a mobile train
Tapping the card on the handle
Her hair still smelled
Of delicious fruit and candy
But it dangled lifelessly
On her yearning forehead
She reached her station
The cabin was empty;
So was she
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem