Your grayed out behind the distance
Your floundering with loyalty
Do not whimper
My gavel won’t reply
Travel and knowledge seduces you
But I can’t turn into a clichéd crutch
Not with the sun burning a hole in my mind
I will be fine, that I promise you
I found I’m not the man at the stair top
Looking at a beautiful blue dress forgetting one shoe
Or a slipper it says between the pages
We are both blessed to be alive at the same time
And I am so proud of you
For four perfect years, you were all mine
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem