untouched she is but a
flower on the wall
disguising as a vine
you look at it
she is insignificant
how can desire be
emphatic upon a wall
upon a passive
stalk?
she is looking at you
her silence is her prison
she wants to be taken
you are the senseless wind
passing
simply dashing
like a vagabond
touch her serration
feel the thorn of her hands
provoke her
into a dance of lust
once your lips touch hers
she becomes ignited
like fire
that once started as a flicker
yet with your
love she can be the bushfire
that burns
the whole forest
of far
Australia
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem