we never tire
writing about beauty
trees along the road
some fog
and blooming calla lilies
the colored houses and
the cafe where we
stop for breakfast: coffee and
bread roasts and
sausages.
we talk and take some
silent moments
and we look at each other
acknowledging
the passing of God between
our smiles.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem