Crayons?
Poetry's infancy
Emotions expressed perfectly
yet, unperceived by established critics
Elixirs of raw innocence
Forever cloaked from so called
intelligence designed to sterilize creativity
Just their scent can return yesterdays smiles,
if only for a moment,
but, how precious that moment
when relived
Oh, how I love crayons
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
No new poem for such a long time.