Tearing at my mind;
cold, icy shards
of the past,
pierce the darkness
where slumber’s ship
sails on
without me.
Holding
yesterday’s flowers
they come,
shrouded ushers
to thoughts of things
long buried,
but not forgotten.
Old winds,
come to blow away
what little remains
of the night,
and a soul
seeking only
peace and rest.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem