From the channels of pathways, washed away
Sometimes, one may often find pieces of a distant day
To wonder of what may have happened, to one gone astray
Life in punishment, monitored and controlled, cost of freedom to pay
No answers, only feelings of regret, haunting is the question of why
Impact is hard, among so many involved, too many to cry
Releasing up and out, all the thoughts and feelings to fly
Topping the peak, of the granting of flight, so righteously high
Still, there are those of few, the some of so very many, trapped in time
That will never know of my spelling of lines, and words in rhyme
Motions and energy, involved and racing, able to stop on a dime
Silence is the sound, only the motions are heard, it is a dance of mime
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hi Deborah, you've got some great lines in this one. Silence is indeed the sound and mime the dance to some. Frank