Clouds passing overhead, wind blowing them across the
sky, lonesome evening, pondering yesterday and all of
it's past moments.
Knowing that they will never come around again in this
lifetime, corners of a mind are being penetrated by
feelings and emotions.
Surrounding this heart with the mistiness of yesterday's
tears, watching through interior windows, hoping to find
a way to ease or sooth this emptiness left behind by
death's insistence.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wnderful imaginary. Highly speculated. Best phraseology. Thanks for sharing such intensive poem. .... 10