Words that lie unwritten,
Might as well be dead,
Like letters that are hidden,
Never to be read.
Can you hear my whispers?
That I make behind your head,
Words, a silent murmur,
Soon to make my bed.
Were that it should happen,
On a well worn day,
You stumble on this letter,
I fear that you'll say,
Be Close with me forever,
But never in that way.
It seems that dusty letters,
Must be hid away.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem