you hear footfalls
on the pavement
beside the window
of your house as you
write some words
to make you remember
the comfort that in
unholy hours like this
well, the joyous fact
is: you are not alone.
you hear the buzz
of the computer
on a world wanting
just be at home with
the winds and whims
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem