Those very stares begin at dawn and winter has a hold.
I frown the gust across the lawn, not bundled for the cold.
The passive change I might subject is subtle say the least.
For saving me has churned awhile by mother and her priest.
To see this world but black and white would frighten me a bit.
I'd frolic round more aimlessly and have no time to sit.
I fear to add some color here might bind me in the cost.
Until the day togetherness would cure my being lost.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like the poem. It is well written and had nice flow. The rhythm and rhyme are very nice