Imagine autumn leaves,
cheeks and arms red.
Only a breath for miles around.
Blue with wind inside no matter where we are.
Our newborn something no one else can see.
Is is so hard to remember if you have cried about them?
Or are you willing to become the example of what happens to someone,
who looks at the clock and those that drowned there;
Those who know life and death have worked well for centuries,
those who follow the tracks of the angels into a darkness i do not think of lovingly.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Massive food for thought here G. I love the impact of the title, in context. t x