Wind strokes the trees,
a lover's touch that sets
the leaves to sighing;
Rain slicks the road,
a subtle sheen
like eyes that gleam
in sultry invitation;
the slow rich dance of life
swirls past my door
tugs at the spaces
in my heart where
you once were
erasing all the shape,
the touch, the taste of you
to free me of the ghost
that mutes my passion
so I can bloom again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem