Titta tatta
soft drizzle
wetting hair
droplet filled grass
A hand
reaching down
through broken clouds
grasping and grabbing
pulling at my heart
'Time to go back'
I turn not back
but face forward
for what's behind stalks
for what's behind
stays behind
ready to pounce.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem