Sitting in a cold, dreary office
a desk piled with work present past and future,
as life`s seconds tick endlessly onward
My mind returns to you.
Time slows and stops
then reverses, as mental pictures
[the portraits I draw best]
Burst upon the scene,
are hung with care, , , ,
and gazed upon
in the privacy of my gallery.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Welcome, and a beautiful poem for your first submission. A thoughtful thought on the minds ability to cherish, reflect and appreciate the sentiments in our life. Check gram. (but I'm not one to talk) . Happy New Year! Angie