Rushing carefully into another day, not knowing what to
expect, just being silent, feeling whatever comes into
this being.
Life touching the essence held within me, waiting for the
expressions of my heart to be strung out on lines of paper,
like clothes hung out to dry in the sun.
Clouds hanging around outside, draping the sky like misty
curtains of heaven, nothing stirring, not even a breeze
to whisper nature's lullaby.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem