What crosses the line with you
Was it something said or a thing to do
Did you suffer it in silence made
And wonder at the next escapade
Is it a memory held deep down
That surfaces like a buoy in ocean bound
To bob and ring its bell
Knowing it is part of your private hell
So what will you do about such a thing
Do you let it intrude once you hear its ring
Or sink it down to founder and drown
Not letting it breath or bob around.
© Paul Warren Poetry
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem