I have a strange theory, strange
As multiple dimensions in string theory:
Spirits can see what we see
When we think of them;
So I think of them; I think
Of family dead, of friends dead,
And what they might like;
I think of them when I see
Blue sky, fresh wet snow,
A masterpiece sunset, a rose garden,
The ocean at the beach, a full moon;
I think of them when I see
The cat in the window watching
Birds at the feeder, the dog
Sleeping on my lap.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem