Twas the night before Christmas,
and all through my head,
were thoughts of things,
that really should be said.
The guts were not there,
the time was not right,
is it something I fear,
or is it just the night?
Overwhelming sensations,
I wish to believe,
a gut check hesitation,
was all I received.
Love in your tender touch,
all I take is the pain,
I'll be your crutch,
if you will be my cane.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem