Your friends are your voice
Your father is your hands.
It wasn't always this
Winter became autumn
'But I changed my leaves.'
Your heart is a river
Your phone is your sleeve.
You loved me in pages
In a book with no cover
'But I ran out of ink.'
Your words were a promise
Your man was tomorrow
This time it wasn't me
I know I said I'd miss you
'But I changed my mind.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem