Each recess is filled with memories.
Hazy, vague, intangible,
They lure me
As I plod bare-footed
Through these doubtful spaces.
Stumbling over distorted shadows.
Miles of worry, what-ifs, regrets
Measure my trail.
Like Marley's ghost
I drag links of sorrow
That multiply with every step
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A nice poetic imagination, Beatrice. You may like to read my ars poetica named as (Poetic Sense-1) Thanks