My precarious perch
My razors edge
My constant needs
I am not a regretful animal
I'll give the skeeters their due
I'll allow the rain its moment
I'll prostrate myself to love
I'll stroll this slippery road lined by
Imperfect blooms
And know it is mine
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
thyself the hero of life!