meeting you again
reminds me of my own failures too
our eyes meet
and the flame of reminisces begins to flare
i look at the side of this stone
church and wander again to the world of my own
imagination: a green hill, a rising sun
a spread of daisies, a cloud of butterflies
a sea of opportunity
into the mist of forgetting
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem