Whilst darkness cradles passing hours,
In vaulted rooms the mind had built
Leaving just a glimpse of twilight
Of dreams that heart and soul had spilt.
When stones and mortar form the shawl
That fends the soul from ice and chill
The healing yet begins again
It always has, it always will
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Write comment. Such a nice poem, Laurie. Read my poem, Love and Iust. Thanks