Those worn out jeans,
come off so easy,
exhibition is natural for you,
but temptation is another mater,
a road you guard yourself against,
passion you need,
but desire not always fulfilled,
come sit down next to and lets chat,
she asked about what,
I say maybe this and that,
she asks a house of dreams,
that never come be,
time spent doing chores or more,
just a life of drudgery,
no to that, she say's is not for me,
I need just to be free,
she picks up those worn out jeans,
and then leaves.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice piece of poetry this, I don't really understand the object