I clasped it tightly until veins turned blue.
Solitary warmth, I know
Would not suffice
This hand is as cold as ice.
A flame is what my heart yearns
Not the shame in your grin
Or the arch of your mustache
Or dots resting in your wrinkled skin.
Until I go beyond
The years of solitary warmth,
I would remain intimate
To the beating of my wrists, promise.
(20/9/2010 DOha, Qatar)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
An excellent and well penned write! Keep it up! 10+++Love and Peace...