Our memories hold what we write,
From a fine summer's day,
To a bird in flight,
Stored in the mind,
Those events unfold,
As we write,
Those memories flow like pure gold,
For the love of our loved one's,
Brings out the best,
In words,
From our hearts,
In our poetry may they finally rest.
Jayne Louise Davies
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem