I get buried in pain
Since the day I lost
A little bit of you to
My shyness of youth…
Flame is not yet dead
Wick is strong and can
Swing and bend to
Accept the invitation….
Wind of remorse blows
Strong; the lamp may
Not stand to hold the oil
Of love till end of time….
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You are the master of the love poems..nicely done
Thanks very much Annette. Honored.