Naftali Primor, Poetry

נפתלי פרימור, שירתי

משורר צעיר בליבו ששירתו התפתחה בגיל מאוחר. הרגישו מוזמנים להשתתף בחווית שירתי.

Mom's Right Palm

No more cheap phone calls
The speaking language has come to its end
No sense of talk is being heard
An ocular vision is taking its place
I smile to her, she is giving it back
The mighty touch dominates over all
I'm holding her left palm
Petting 94 year old skin
She loves it in a gentle smile
But her right hand is crying
Begging to be picked up
And so left.

August 14, 2014