Author Hiroaki Sato When with hot palms, unable to fall asleep,people got to sleep, from long ago,gripping a crumpled towel,or holding a black clay-slate stone. Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments