I found the road
that was left behind
and none the worse for wear
or time...
and though the blooms
had fell to snow
there were no signs
of me to find...
Along the path
the pines had spread
and weaved a bridge
across my heart
had held above
the rising tides -
a place was meant
for me to start...
I cannot know
how long the days
between the last
breath and the first
but understand
that time was not
for me to still
my longing thirst...
Where would I go -
or would I try
to find the way
back home to this
to know that home
was always for me -
and what of love
It was me I missed...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem