The Flame Poem by Vera Sidhwa
The Flame
He sat with a paintbrush in his hand,
She with a plume and paper in between her fingers.
He ran his hand across a keyboard.
She held a needle and a thread.
Their passion turned into their product.
Their passion turned high.
The flames in their hearts.
The flames turned into a picture, a dress,
A musical piece and a book.
The flame rose high in their heart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/23/2024 7:53:34 AM # 1.0.0.1119
