Nondescript illusions follow me at times through tunnels of yesterday, taunting me with images of frightening possibilities from past episodes of pain, abandonment, or humiliation.
Standing on sidelines, hoping to recover from their long-standing reminders one day, I continually advance towards my final day on earth, filled with family and writing.
Hoping whatever I leave behind in books will be appreciated by at least one person who loves me, and never forgets me once I'm gone from this life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Another keeper from the stables of a woman that wears it all out in her words. I hope to read more of your poems and thanks for sharing.