We often speak about
the fun we used to have
whenever we retrace our memories,
remembering our absent friends.
We remember our growing years,
the smiles on our faces
and the funny things we did
with our absent friends.
As the years roll on their way
and age creeps up on us
we sometimes like to reflect
on our long gone absent friends.
The flower of youth has withered,
but the flower never died.
It is still locked in our memory
when we remember our absent friends.
1 July 2012
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem