Sitting at Dave's
We'd wonder who'd be
Next,
Eight of us;
A bit nervous.
Some read prose and others
Poetry,
Sometimes their own,
Waiting for feedback
Like life,
Anxious that our
Impact was poor,
Our language
Incomprehensible.
But here
They were kind,
Looking at the positives,
While we all,
Smiling,
Hid our truths
Til later.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This sounds just like most reading groups I have been in!