She keeps on telling herself she shouldn't worry.
She can't deny, however, that there's a little part in her that grows bigger everyday; waiting, wishing, clinging strongly to that little piece of hope she's seeing. She still hopes for that light in front of her to shine brighter...
But it's flickering - sometimes dim, sometimes glowing, sometimes it's as bright as a fallen ray of sunshine, and she's thankful that it's never dark, never black.
It's always there; teasing her, beckoning her, messing around with her train of thoughts.
And she'll keep on walking towards it as long as you don't turn off your light.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem