There is no milk
There is no sugar
The pie remained
Without the cream...
Culinary chance-man
Has lost his taste
And his patience,
Why he tried
Today a pepper.
And now sits sadly
To smoke his pipe...
He must be tasteless Tsira - - a delicious and tasty piece. Fay xx
one open window holds a pie.. unseen... waifing up into the air.. the cream.. upon the top is there.. all see.. the pipe when held.. each holder watches.. too make sure it's...iip
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Tsira, I love the abstract imagery you project within this beautiful poem. Top marks and thanks for sharing it with us my friend. Hugs David