No more the gentle song of spring,
No more the touch of anything,
No more the guiding, tender hand,
No more to walk upon this land.
No more the smell of summer rain,
No more the tree against the pane,
No more the child who sweetly cries,
No more the breath of whispered sighs.
No more the falling leaves of time,
No more you’ll hold this hand of mine,
No more the melancholy mist,
No more the lips I should have kissed.
No more the dormant, winter air,
No more the bed, the room, the chair,
No more the moon nor sky above,
No more the light from those I love.
No more the hours to wish away,
No more the words I planned to say,
No more the love of life ahead,
No more the fear of being dead.
Wow i went from laughing at your last poem to reading inspired - you are a great poet - SG xo
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The mark of a good poem, it makes me feel as I read. I love it.