my dreams
are dying,
fading with
the passage
of time
as we know it.
memories bunching up
bouncing
off each other.
faces becoming
blurry,
distorted.
tomorrow
is becoming
a question
that is answered
each morning
i awaken
to celebrate
the occasion.
time is slipping away.
if i concentrate
hard enough,
i can recall
the color of summer.
(3-19-2015)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem