The writing faded on the page
The paper yellowing with age
An age of innocence then died
The blurring marks where once i cried
The memories flow back to me
Why did she ever have to leave?
The writing fading from the page
The sadness now becomes of age
The paper's corner now a flame
I shall not see those words again.
ahh...but the memory knows, does it not? ? thank you for taking me into that place where I try not to go....the memories...but, they are nice
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
An honest look at nostalgia. Excellent, Davd