I wonder about love...how she's invisible like the wind
Yet when you feel her brush against your heart you know where she has been.
She can be forever...or evanescent...and no one can ever own her.
Which makes those of us who have felt her touch...lucky to have known her.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
or evanescent...and no one can ever own her. love personified and seen as evanescent ever evading. thank you very much for this poem. love becomes an imaginary person.. tony