Walking the lonely roads of time, I face myself.
The puffs of dust gently follow the slight air
as the grains fall slowly, they echo my despair.
Raising my eyes, misery lies on the shelf.
The pounding in my chest never ceases, ever drumming
hopes of newness unknown, wilting my joy forever.
Creasing brow tangles the web of larger endeavor.
Cautious moments bloom again into smiles of humming.
Stalking the days of glory on sun-drenched youth
Seas foaming, calling back to visions once held.
Last images always haunt minds gazing truth
praising battles fought in life alone and felled.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A lovely piece of poetry, well articulated and nicely penned albeit sorrowful. Death is the ultimate date we must all keep, dust to dust is a must at all costs. Take it easy and take care. Thanks for sharing and do keep it up. Please read my poem MANDELA - THE IMMORTAL ICON.