I wrap my arms
around it, or try,
though it slips,
too quick
like smoke.
Moments pass
in quiet comtemplation.
I look and see
seconds turn and fly
like smoke.
I cry out,
feelings bared for all to see;
lonely and unashamed,
but for memories, fleeting,
like smoke.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem