My thoughts are with you, laid in bed;
my hand there, too, stroking your head.
And though these words are meant to be read,
the ones to remember are those I said.
I love you; want you; long to be yours -
you nursed me after my own World Wars.
And as you open all those doors,
you'll close the ones on the original cause.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem