Living under stormy skies of yesterday,
listening to the silent becoming of senior years,
hurriedly rushing upon me without waiting a moment
in rest.
Never giving any time to adjust to new demands of
aging years.
Sliding along, doing the best I can with what I
have been given.
Longing to be felt through musical tones, never
letting go of the future, promised from heaven's
whispers, sent by angels to my soul.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem