When the lights went out and she would
so pretty be, come over and sit, next to me.
She always knew more than I did, being
a smart girl, she would pass along those
anonymous feelings underneath the table.
Every day she would give me a ride home,
and her mother, knew when we were coming.
Still on Valentino's birthday, we relive moments
and thoughts, against those others, in that storm
of hearts carved on that one strong tall tree.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Haw romantic....well penned..........i like it.