Autumn breeze,
cup of coffee,
same old song,
playing in my head,
as I sit on these,
same old stairs.
From poets mind,
to tip of pen,
these words drawn,
and the paper’s stained,
another line written,
to be lost in time again.
This autumn breeze,
brings back memories,
the same old song,
I used to play,
again and again,
just to kill the pain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem