To The Hand Poem by Maria Barbara Korynt
To The Hand
my soul is rusting
when from the morning I must
force myself
to anything
a high heel is tiring
I am putting sandals on
and I am pleased that I have
free fingers
in the fresh air
and sand is entering between
and what's more there is exactly
a real freedom
when this way I am going before
I am not looking back
and I still a bit have time
because I bought the new watch
it is big and on the belt
How have you captured the sweet nothings of life and created a lovely poem.......do you have a magic wand with you, if yes pls share....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/20/2024 1:15:25 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Poem written in the light and interesting way. The very cool idea and the work. I like it :)))