The hour may be late,
But the heat of the day,
Remains with me,
And the life of the day,
Clings to me,
Never letting go,
Letting love absorb it,
Trying to remain at that state,
And the joy of the day,
Wraps around me,
Willing me to let it stay,
But gone is the day,
Rushing past each and every date,
But the hour is late.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nick, Your poem wraps beautifully, just like a warmed towel. 10 from smiling warmed, Tai