In that night
When I awaken
After sweat-filled...
Diapers soaked
I cry and try
To remember
When I was little
Younger...now older
In the morning
Of the igniting
I start up
Fired to the soul
In the evening
Of the beckoning
Awakening
To heart-breaking...
Tears
Falling from the soul
Remembering
Once ago
Richard Wlodarski April 2016
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Aging is a rough reality that makes us aware of our mortality!
So true, Howard. That's why, just like in poetry, every word, and every act, must count. Thanks for reading and rating. Greatly appreciated.