Oblivion approaches closer
as the sun tiptoes across your face
emphasing each and every aspect
as
dusk fades into the dawn
the leaves outside begin
to rustle against the sound
of your sigh
leaving the skies breathless
in only the ways an angel could steal
leaving the skies breathless
in only the way an angel could
steal
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem