Dead trees standing tall in nurturing ground, looking proud, reaching out, needing love.
Never budding - empty-handed - naked - left all alone in their death - I still find beauty in them as they reach out to my soul and touch my heart with sacred memories of childhood held close to my mind.
Never letting me forget joyous moments spent upon a tire swing, dreaming dreams of what I wanted to someday be.
Clearly, the image comes to me as words I thought back then can still be heard silently within my mind:
'Someday I will be somebody, because I am me'.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem