looking through the window
flower head
past the zenith of it's bloom
sees silent as it hovers
where a spaceship's lost it's zoom
so shortly after blast-off
with little or no sound
it's odyssey's suspended
just three feet off the ground
faces at the portals
pressed against the glass
and the colours in her petals
were not meant to last
when they knew that it was over
were they suddenly aware
it's all about not knowing
what is really there
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem