Walking down country roads, smelling aromas of roses
growing wildly along the trails.
Letting minds wander through memories of the past,
dusty trails leading into dense jungles and back
again.
Voices calling from whispers of yesterday, giving
hope and taking us into the wake of our livelihood.
Bringing us back home through our minds, right to
our doors from memory.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem