How The Giver
When you found me, and you did
and i was so very, you gave me, me.
So much of it was so, and in that locket,
the picture my heart inside your head.
When i stop, i stop for you, and i pick one,
and the thought of why, keeps me going.
While i know you will, i will for a little longer,
and waiting for the sun to shine, you come.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Is it poetry? Darn good poetry; yes sir. Stealing this one for the favorites file, too.