Sun sinking
stone dropping
rose falling
upon dirt and ash
What did you attain?
Did you learn too late
to tell the trivial from the precious?
Time slips down and away.
Metal, plastic, and wires
have no memory to save
no love or comfort to offer.
Only flesh and blood,
the living bones,
keep you from Hell.
8/2003
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem