(Thank you, Pete for showing the way)
I wept in searching for
the pen I lost among
the clutter inside my bag
Or it might have rolled
off the table while I slept
dreaming of words
I found some pens in the can
but they have long lost the
will to write
Blank
White papers will never be
caressed again with prose and poems
You came by and said:
if the pen you cannot find
its ink have dried or the
ball tip rolls to an unreachable
crevice on the floor
take my pencils and write
to ease the sting inside
your heart
but first - remember to
sharpen each with
care.
Napakaganda. Reminds me of all the borrowed 'pens' I lost.10+
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
what you will have gen are the sharpest pencils...nice poem.