Sunglasses Poem by Andrew Westermann
Sunglasses
Her face turns towards mine
and I do not know who she is
whether she is lost or if she is trying to get lost
I see a smile
very warm
bending her perfect lips
showing her snow white teeth
Her hair like leaves in autumn
gold and beautiful
hair of an angel
Her eyes I can not see
she is wearing sunglasses
my love for her dies
for I do not understand
what there is to hide
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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8/28/2026 10:25:47 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
