Today I went to the loft
To try to find the book
That’s full of all your photographs
To remind me how you look
Inside the roof for most of the day
Amongst clutter and junk that I can’t throw away
I opened every box and rummaged inside
Trying to find the place; where you’d managed to hide
Hundreds of letters; I found written by you
The calendar you made and postcards too
And the picture of a white horse with wings you’d drawn on
And other reminders of all the things that were gone
But not a single photograph; of you could I find
I looked in every box and left nothing behind
They're probably in a hiding place that I thought was safe
And forgotten now the whereabouts of this very special place
So when my book of memories is one day found
By the owner of this house a hundred years from now
They’ll look and see your picture and wonder who you are
And have no idea at all; how much you filled my heart
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem