As she reads what she wrote,
Memories come back.
Memories of pain and laughter.
The loss of none,
And the gain of one.
She remembers how vulnerable she was.
How she wanted a perfect ending.
But instead of reliving what was,
She keeps living for what could be
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nicely said in a few lines...although the past can be visited it should never be dwelled upon...good work :)