Time is running out
but no-one ever follows.
Grief is a bitter pill
that everybody swallows.
Hope is a symphony
played on one instrument.
Deeds without faith
are like broken ornaments.
When love lies abandoned,
washed up on a shore,
life is a sad poem,
no less and no more.
© Steve Wheeler 2020
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem