Taking in hand, the sorrow I'm feeling, walking with it as I weep silently inside for a friendship that has died.
Holding a candle, burning brightly in my darkened soul, hoping with a prayer of a mustard seed that she will finish thinking of the hurt I caused unintentionally and begin again to look about and see that I'm still here with open arms, waiting for her to come and start talking to me again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem