A silent somber whisper,
of the breeze,
through your hair.
A slight chill and frost,
as the wind fastens,
a blizzard draws near.
A boy, silent as a tree,
quiet like a leaf,
obnoxious like an emotion.
A curiousity is felt,
to greet the independent child,
but with hesitation.
A sense of absolute caution,
as you make the approach,
feeling a breeze.
A split second,
the boy disappears into the wind,
it's cold once again.
A desperate chill,
of the midwinter breeze,
and the memory of what was lost.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
wonderful piece of work-great read!