Dust on the shelf,
Enveloping the books.
It shows your age,
But shows more than your looks.
Trophies lie in waste,
Ready to be destroyed.
For age is boundless,
There is no point to avoid.
So see of your heart,
And your soul too.
When you are down,
When you are blue.
And look back on life,
With no regrets.
With everything done,
And nothing set.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem