She turned on the lights on my concert stage.
While my fingers lingered on the keyboard,
She handed me her electric guitar
She closed my fist on it
Told me to close my eyes.
I did.
I see the other phase of me,
Naked,
Calm,
Alive, but
Will I ever have my audiences?
At least,
She is hope.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem