So weird, so charming.
A forest, a hill.
I'm not your
Prince Charming.
A night so alarming.
The warning, a hush.
A melodic wind.
Signs with no pre tense
The waves so dense.
And does Santa have an island,
A mez
morising dance.
And Mother Theresa does not live
here any more.
More to the sky.
More to the poor.
But reality sets in.
pt.2 later
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem