It was true then,
And it's true now,
Without friend,
Without affection,
From dear life we run and hide,
Even tears become less stressful,
If there's someone there, when cried.
Without friend, without affection, poetry becomes compromised, when tears become diluted the salt in them, we are not the sort that runs and hides for our passion of the pen is life, and the growing pains give depth to our poetry, I enjoyed this poem Sandra...as usual, you always deliver! : -)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Without friend and without affection life becomes hopeless. Wonderfully inscribed. Beautiful poem. Thanks for sharing... A10