Losing love can be like
Playing a bad riff
On a golden stringed guitar
But the road is long
The wind blow strong
The smell of a good sea
Will follow me every where
People will stare
At the colored clown
With the comic frown
They will all cry out
Who needs a big tent
When your canopy is full with stars
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice poem about the night.well done Allan