i am told
about the new scare
and i am scared
and you have to start moving on
somewhere
here back at home
with our nipa huts
and morning glory salads
less the winter
and the chill
we are waiting
welcome back
my old friend
the river is not as cold
as you think
and the trunks of the trees
are not as rotten
as you once wrote
the road back home
is not bumpy
anymore
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem