Sorrow picking at my heart like a guitar being played within,
strumming this mind with tender loving care, letting it relive
the carefree memories of moments in childhood.
So gently and beautifully they abound, allowing my heart to
once again fill with the joy I knew once back then.
Dancing spiritually to the essence of my being and passion,
finding the liberty and freedom that was given to me as a
rebellious child.
Holding on to it still, becoming attuned to who I am, allowing
sorrow it's hand, showing me the way to life in spite of it's
presence.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem