Faded pages left behind,
dusty jackets and pearls
beyond the deeper days of age
a blood red crimson moon.
A luminous form is leaving
to a rising tide of cheer,
touching radiant starlight,
with a feathered mind
escaping with new wings.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Indeed, the mind needs new wings to rise from lowest ebb to greater heights. A powerful piece of poetry, well articulated and nicely penned with insight. A lovely poem indeed. Thanks for sharing. Please read my poem MANDELA - THE IMMORTAL ICON.