You've seen a lot my friend, your weathered letters show
The autumn rain gently tapping on the windows, turning to winter flakes of snow
Of first communions come and gone, and diamond rings which the women fawn, your legacy lives on
That thief that came to pawn, his desperate eyes sung no song
Of a person's life you've lived three, never given away for free
Your bricks uneven, laid by better men, from simpler times they call
With you grows a crooked tree so tall, your trusted friend, through thick and thin you dream, of all the people come and gone, their faces once again pressed against the window, but it's not to be.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hi Jack... I live in San Diego... I think I've peered through the window of that old store in Old Town. Nice write... Regards, Shirley