She walked up the hall,
and stood in front of her bedroom.
A war went on inside her,
whether or not to open the door.
She loved him, she new she did,
but was that then?
Was that before?
Or was this just a dream?
Did she really wake up every morning,
to find him gone.
With no note or letter ending with three little words.
Or was this just a dream?
Was that really him,
in that resturant?
Was that really him holding someone else?
Or was this just a dream?
She woke, to an empty bed.
It wasn't just a dream
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem