This Must Not Go Poem by Ina SchrodersZeeders
This Must Not Go
The scent of the ripened fruit you eat
While I am sitting quiet at your feet
And just the whisper of the undertow
This must not go
Watching your fedora out of reach
rolling away over the empty beach
And just the whisper of the undertow
This must not go
The comfort of your body being near
The soundless spoken words so very dear
And just the whisper of the undertow
This must not go
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/6/2024 1:59:56 AM # 1.0.0.1119
