i stand in the loft
sifting through memories
as kids, we called it
'the rotten spot'
father fixed it up.
now we just call it 'the barn'
i see it slowly rotting again
posters folded,
falling from the walls
sister smears cigarette ash with her foot
father wants to leave, she says
he told mom and it's
killing her.
the memories rust
smashed to dust.
the devil's whisper
will blow them
away.
as tomorrow melts
into yesterday
love will come
but not to
stay.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Really love this, it brings back some memories of when I was a kid. A fantastic poem.