I have loved a poet
a poet of love he is
he writes of passion
cares and of his life..
he would pen about
most of the love he
has now and of past
love unending still
to every girl he had
while each poem
I would wish this
one is going to be
for me, but never
it does, for it has
always been for
his girl in the past
has written hundreds
of love poems for
all his so called muse
each time I read one
I would think maybe
this one will be for me
as tough he had forgotten
all, everything about me
for each and every poems
is an inspiration for him
were for some other girl
that he have known...
one day it suddenly
dawned on me that
it will never happen.
sadly I stop hoping
for I now know that
he will never, ever
write even a single
poem about me...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem