Waking up that January Morning
there was a shade of orange on my wall.
It was so war, - I started to reminisce -
I started to fall.
I tried so hard to erase your presence
- 'Cause You became forever absent.
Small things will always reappear,
and even if not, the orange if your shirt exists here and there.
© in 2014
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem