And here he sits just staring...
Staring over the sea
Looking out for something
A ship of some sort
Maybe
I keep on wondering why tho
Why he stares that way
While I am behind him on the rocks
Limp and light in the wind its sway
Why does he carry flowers and throws them in the sea
In those rougher waters
Instead of giving them to me
But yet he walks right passed
Passed me and away
To where I cannot follow
To my sorrowful dismay
Then I am tied to these rocks
These rocks so cold and hard
Where days before they were my bed
The bed where I was lying
I remember eyes looking so sad
They said that I was dying...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem