It was the inappropriate leans of life that broke the kid, ruined the wife.
The sun lit bright the next day. The eve of destruction. Blessed with strength and might.
They had observed everything we as a species had ever experienced. They had indeed were forces to see it all from the green of spring to brown leaves of the fall. Mild and orange. Proceedingly we spoke of the importance of winter. Time alotted for his soul to shed the old and remove the precious seasons splinter. Often times never hollering at all only weeping. In essence its in the stars where our memory is worth keeping. After all it was in the fall when your soul was left silently sleeping....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem