After it’s all over,
and I have lost;
did not end up with the item I treasured
or the boy I wanted the most,
My life goes on.
Doesn’t it?
I hear the birds and I wake to their songs?
Don’t I?
And people are anywhere I walk along.
Aren’t they?
Did I hurt my chances?
Wasn’t it the end?
Did I miss his comment, or the not-so-subtle glances?
Or could it be that lost can mend?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Could it be that lost can mend... what an excellent thought... a fine write