Silouette in the puddle,
First hard to see,
Then reality took hold,
The Silouette was me.
A shadowy figure,
Of a tired old man.
A ripple in the water,
Was this in the plan.
Responsibility to others,
and none to myself.
My life is written,
A book on the shelve.
Places not travelled,
People not met.
I am the owner,
of the Silouette.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem