it was dark, it was small
just a hole in the wall
we could hear all the sounds of the street
but the time that we spent
and affordable rent
made us forget about walls of concrete
So, we made it our own
and we called it a home
though we still couldn’t wait to get out
but with our lack of space
packed in our little place
we learned what true love was about
but that was the past
and it just couldn’t last
now, we live in a big house of wood
when I think of those days
of our underground stays
all the memories I have are all good
This poem just comes to show that we Can have good memories no matter where in life we are. Its what you make of it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This also speaks to me, Charlie.