Purple lilacs are my memories
Flow rivers were like my tears.
Birds chirping is my music
Wispering winds are his words.
Sweet honey on breakfast ceareal
Rotting leaves for the mulch
Soft green grass under my feet
My dogs fluffy fur blowing in the wind.
Fresh berries in my mouth
Cool spring water running clear
Relaxed in the mountains way up hear.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A great place for the senses