its not the years we loved
its the quality of love we shared
its how we walked through the valleys
battled turbulent waves to cross streams
to see our dreams flower on top of the hill
its how our love grew together through the years
and our hearts beat in concert to pluck the ripe plum
growing on a purple tree high in the windy sky
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem