tattered
like a torn dress
that was never
asked to the
prom
folded neatly
hiding
under the bed
where
the bed bugs
bite
take hold
of the night
where gypsies
dance
with fire flies
in the scarlet sky
and the crescent
moon
screams forward
aching to shine
and be a star
someday
like
the sun...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
highly imaginative...artful selection of words...artful usage...the crescent moon is the emblem of expectations in toto in life...10