standing in front of me
chest puffed out, ready
the snow had blanked
out everything yet
betrayal ran in little
bird hops across
what used to be the grass
and a robin
looked on expectantly
and although colour
needed an advocate
I wasn't going to fight
we had argued yesterday
I turned and went back in
winter having the last word
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem