I never count my precious breathe as I know everything has its own limits,
This breakable dishearten skeleton doesn't stand like a breakwater which face the force of waves.
Is this hidden soul disperse when you stop breathing?
* Aging; First you forget the names, then you forget the faces and you forget to pull your Zipper up, then you forget to pull your Zipper down.
-Leo Rosenburg
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Bones do grow old, but the soul lives forever. And poems can have a long life as well. Excellent write, Nimal. Always your friend at poemhunter, Sandra