Feeling owned by my memories repeat like the sun rising
Echo’s of sound ring like a high pitched bell in my ears
My prints in the snow have slowly melted
At night I gaze at the stars and ask god to take my fears
The gradual grade give no choice to what way the water flows
Its sad that every door that opens one day will close
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful poignant write Lesten thank you for sharing it...10++