We all know it doesn’t take much
To blind a fool
That fool on the bench
The fools around the shops
This fool writing
Speaking on other fools as if he’s not to be mentioned
A soft thigh
A breezy wink
A blue skirt
In the right place
A sweet smile in the summer air
But soft thighs grow hard
Casual winks give way to black eyes and hearts
Blue skirts fade
Smiles grow sour
At the wrong time
In the moonlight
With a gunfight
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem