with these small steps
away from
going out into
and coming back home again
all of these memories
vanish
like snowflakes on warmer hands
the cool feel remains around
growing up
and turning old
can still feel the soft whisper
of childhood
like an old dream
the playground sound
the summers that went to fast
lighting bugs
buring out
into the dark forest
of yesterday
looking back
over the empty fields of my memory
only those snapshots remain
like an envelope
sealed shut
and peered into under light
secrets unreaveled that were once known
now haunting in still solace
as a catapiller builds a shell
and emerges with only a vauge recollection
of his life before
this is how i look through
i am an open book
filled with blank pages
and at peace
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem