a fire
slowly dieing out
the embers slowly
turning to ashes
just as my love for you
the cackling of your laughter
forever etched into my memory
the flames gobbling
a new piece of wood
just as your touch
used to
but,
no longer for,
the ashes
have long since
been cold.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem