I think of you at night before I wake
in the morning when I dream
and in the bliss that lies in between;
in every flower I grow
in wind blown hair and the rain that falls
to wet my soul;
in the tap of feet and golden laughs,
in the grace of light and blinding rage;
in crinkling noses and silly jokes,
in bitter tears down sunset cheeks;
in the pink of blooms on the whitest walls,
in things I cook and the songs I sing;
in the steel of iron and mother's love,
the crush of petals on honeyed skin;
when I think of home lost far away
and the grief of love just out of reach;
in burning eyes that weigh my heart
in empty days when the pain is real;
in words that are not enough
in the warmth of touch that cannot be;
when you pass by with someone else,
when I can only stand and watch you go;
when I know it was but a moment
full of hope that walked by me;
I'll think of you as life goes on
and watch you from afar,
incandescent;
I'll think of you till I no longer can
carry it inside me,
this immortal wound.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem