In the night last past
I lost my pencil
While a female thought hit me.
I lost in thought for a while
And sought in vein for the pencil.
But hopefully the search went on
To her temple, neck and eye lids.
'You searched with lips',
Complained she
And allowed me never
To sleep till morn.
I will file a petition
when the day breaks fully.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem