My life seems to be,
Quickening its once slow burn.
Like a wick lit to light,
A scented candle to flicker bright.
With more wax appearing to melt,
From a flame that began...
Like a birth to brighten to sparkle,
A darkness giving it undivided attention.
Until...
Fewer dawns come to rise,
To then be swallowed...
By even fewer to view Sunsets.
And shadows to cast in a darkness,
Dim to fade and leave to go...
Away.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem