Into the attic I creep.
Just for a tiny peak.
They won't ever know.
I'll go real slow.
A pirate trunk to find.
Jolly Roger, and that kind.
Slowly open to look.
It's empty but one book.
Soiled and old, yet it gleams.
First page open by seam.
Dear Diary, today I cry.
I met this nice guy.
vrom my poetry book DREAMS 1
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very nice poem! Thanks for sharing!