The portrait of my wife is done
unfinished on the wall.
The tree upon on which she sat
surrounded by the bush.
Such are the leaves their brown
and green,
the wind has blown them out and far away.
I thought best in darkness, shutting
out the light,
inside my lonely head the light
shines brighter on the hill.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wife Karen with my daughter on the left With her friend. James McLain