To see the world through these eyes of ice and,
Tears.
To understand the numbered word of hate and soul,
Cradle the treasured call of love so true,
And pure.
The lightened anger of years and hours,
The framed picture of a beaten and broken heart,
The last time the hand stole the skin,
From a borderline pain.
The flame that flickers from the candle,
That shines as a reminder of life and memories,
Can be in future dreams
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A wonderful write tis true we nearly all dream of a better life......well penned.