Let me say this
Before death does us apart, like they say
I am sorry all the way for my ways
The tune turns me astray
In the waylay of all the sway
I swear the way was not my way.
I know, I am made of clay
See me for what I say
My mind per see
Is to stay
This I have to say
After all, ‘that no means say'
You have to forget the days.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A humble apology nicely rendered from inner recesses of the heart with conviction. A well texted and nicely drafted poem. Thanks for sharing Alex.