for sure, you only promised
one thing: being there
being there when the sun shone and
when it did not; when there were rainbows
and when there were none.
being there when the laughter died
and when it was being born on the feet
of children running home.
being there when the skin sang with the wind
or got hurt when it bruised;
i promised nothing, not even being there.
for sure, i could have sworn eternal passion
it would have been easy; weren't we drunk?
i would have promised love would not die
even past a million summers;
but that would be i lie.
for now the laughter is dying,
the children gone. the sun hides.
the rainbow kidnapped by cynics.
for soon i will stop being
there.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem