If only every eye could see her
they might begin to see what I see
because it is I who sees what I see
No one can ever take that away from me
Not even her
She could dump me off
somewhere along the way
but I still saw what I saw
It is enough to make my vision selective
because if she is not around
it tends to grow lonely
it tends to yearn to see her face again
They just want to shut and go to sleep
so that when they open up again
they will search for her until they become tired
and that cycle will never end
A very tender and moving poem Cokbod, a never ending story, sad too. I enjoyed it. Love Ernestine XXX
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
All love sees with selective vision, doesn't it? A lovely write and a tender, heartfelt poem. All the best, Hugh