Sitting by the fire, reminiscing with past memories,
letting them come flow over, tending to emotions that
were driving me back then.
Finding and discovering the beauty of all good times,
tears underneath all of them because for they are not
accessible to me anymore.
Some day I will be reading these poems and tears will
form in my heart at what I've written and now can no
longer experience any of it either.
Life is a constant tidal wave, ebbing and crashing on
our individual horizons, then with tides being drug
back out into depths of our being.
Lying dormant until the next time they are remembered
in this tender mind and it's emotions.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem