She lays
quietly
in waiting.
an unopened
flower
not yet
ready to bloom.
It is
not her season.
She holds
the world
inside
her hands
where innocence
still remains.
Her center
is the
mystery
where
her essence lays.
It is far too
late
for me,
but I pray
the world
will
be good
to her.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
… A caring poem, we all hope the best for our sisters.