Memories hanging on walls like leaves on a tree.
Suspended in time, moments celebrated in minds
of yesterday.
Cobwebs clearing images from cluttered ideas
swathed in linen, waiting to be reached and seen
in daylight hours.
Beginning motions of sorrow, collecting in corners
of eyes, soon to be falling tears, salty with
distaste.
Beings filled and covered with quilts of past ages.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem