He was, He was a village boy
Cutting quickly through the heart of it
Sand bag heavy his breaths left him
Brushing cuts fanned his view
Waving between his searching hands
Flash and stillness draws him
Close and warmly kissed
Trailing promises held slow and rocking
Merge now ground and reach
Pull fast shots have rung
Sleep walking they said it would be
Numb running it has been
From its harmonica to its taxied tradition
Policing contradictions and branches the same
Fantastic stride now
Deep breath and smile proud
Those eyes have owned you since u knew
No footing, panic is swimming
Mixing in exhaled sweat and push
Limp steady, look sharply back
It’s a mad dash, his bark compels him
Their bite begs for haste
What a breeze, what scent to keep!
A sight well tailored to these hands
Here’s its border
The abortion of his chase have neared
One hand over, a final glance given
And his afternoon hers to remember
You can call him “William”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem