My Poems: Pablo’s Poesia

Por Pablo Neruda
Looking inside
deep down-tongue-less
I stumbled on Pablo
sitting-writing-scratching like a chicken in the dirt
every once in a while a tear would fall
making mud on the floor
sticking to our shoes-making tracks everywhere we went
I asked Pablo for some paper..."and perhaps a pen....?"
He looked up ..." No habla ingles ".... he sighed. "Habla en español"
I looked up
way up
and saw my tongue-trying to speak the language of his childhood
! My Poems are copy write by the author !


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