I have not missed you
For so long,
There having been little point;
But as our days converge
To a point in sight,
As things move relative
Not to me or you
But more to us,
I begin at times to miss you.
And I know now why
I did not miss you before;
I did not want this
Desolation of
Time treading dreams to tears,
Leaving you and I
Barren stalks,
Shaking in the wind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem