Standing in the midst of nature's beauty, arms outstretched,
body decaying, getting old.
Waiting forlornly for someone to approach and give a hug,
wishing to be recognized as a living entity, to be held and
cuddled like a small child.
There is no wrong to be found within an aging heart, only
good wanting to be touched and shared.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem