Lost - Poem by Martins Akhoeneto
I have not found you wanting
Lest you go, I'll be waiting
For you, your peer and blood
On the gate of your freedom.
Now your days are bright
Fill to its brim and overflows
Bright like mirrors in the sun
You have banish your tender spoon
That fed you to your latest fill
But certain will it be real
That home is home in troubles
Till then, I'll be here patient
Still waiting at my weary hut.
Comments about Lost by Martins Akhoeneto
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye