My younger days I dream of Paragliding.
And I had a strong desire to be a Pilot.
But this paralysis decaying body in my old age,
I have to quit my old dreams.
I repent now as the youth is a gift
That passed through my bony fingers secretly.
* I dedicate this poem to my friend Sandra. Fowler, I am being grateful to your wise comments really pushed me to the six hundredth poem.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thank you for dedicating this powerful, evocative poem to me. I am very honored. If you listen very closely, somewhere in the distance, you will hear my warm applause for your wonderful accomplishment of having written 600 poems of excellence. People grow older, but poetry is forever. With admiration for your talent, your cyber friend, Sandra