I knew your streets,
your seasons,
the way the light fell on quiet afternoons.
You held my laughter,
my footsteps,
my dreams folded into your corners.
Now, you go on without me,
unchanged, yet different.
I watch from a distance,
a name you no longer call.
If you remember me,
let it be in the way the rain falls,
soft, fleeting,
never quite gone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem