morning
the airwaves signal your voice across the skyline,
transport your words by paper planes with origami wings; up high
and, it's like you're still alive, it's like you haven't left
at peace is the frequency that radiates throughout
your soul now at ease, feel the breeze so real
it Seems; morning, it's like you're still alive...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem