Shadows softly creeping across silent fields of memories,
every once in a while, highlighting some to be used in
timeless verse.
Asleep in the hearse of my demise, this beauty will end
for me on earth, no more will poetry grace the ears of
those left behind.
Pages of silent words kept forever between covers, opened
occasionly by those who are interested in poetry.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
words of silence are always powerful in poetry...and your poem too...