It is love, real love
It is not a joke
It has its ups and falls
In the heat of a moment
Never make a call
Once lost
It may not come back
You will hold your head in hands
Will sit stooping down in a chair
May cry missing her
May slap your forehead and say -
How stupid you were!
It may by then be too late
For love has its wings
May fly too far
Where it gets love
For love in return.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A poignant poem of love. The last stanza expresses it all. Well penned.
Thank you Rose Marie for stopping by and for your comment.