hands of coal,
back bent with time...
eyes that play tricks,
and ears that need help.
pictures of memories hidden
behind lips terse and still.
stories wrapped in stories,
no one listens to anymore.
the ghosts of love walking
the floors of an empty house...
eat a little, stare out the window,
read the obituaries just to see
if you're there!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I really like this poem- especially the second verse! - phenomenal work!