The moning came,
With the glory of fame.
Though the sun was tame,
The wind felt the same.
The sparkle in your eyes,
The warmth of your touch.
I wish I could fly,
When you kiss me that much.
But everything has an end,
And you left at noon.
It's time I make ammends,
I've a little to fine tune.
I cleaned up the sheets,
I drew up the curtains.
I replaced broken bits,
And duplicated patterns.
He came home that night,
And noticed nothing.
I thanked the Almight,
for covering up everything.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem