Her passing glance grazed my eye
In desperation I tried not to cry
Is love so unreliable and fickle
That being in it can be a pickle
Still knowing this we venture on
In hopes the battle will be won
We hold love close and keep it near
While underneath there is a fear
That rejection may be what we get
And yet we continue and try not to fret
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem