I slam the door in your face,
But I don't lock it,
I slide to the floor in front of it,
Prepare to wait out the storm,
Listening with reluctant ears,
But I don't hear a knock,
Finally I hear a soft tapping,
Composing myself I get up and open the door,
Outside I see no one and nothing,
Save a simple olive branch,
I pick it up and take it inside,
Then reading the note attached,
It says simply yet wonderfully,
'I'm sorry, I love you'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem