Think of me sometimes
when I am gone
just naturally
as a breeze
that drifts across your face
Perhaps
we can communicate once more
when the sun lies resting
on the waters of the bay
listen then
to the whisper of a tree
that may be my voice
faxing you a message
Let your fantasies roam
build a picture of what we had
jog the memory
just a little software
to bring me up to date
I'll be waiting
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like the way you have used the words on this.... you never know what is stored in the memory to be restored at a later date... Alison