Once, beautiful she once bloom...
Before they and before them,
Now, withered like the Autumn leaves...
Bare to the Winter's breeze.
Forward, she once say...
As she wonders if she should stay.
Memories, of what she knew today...
Future becomes her present past,
past present in her future.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Iris, such a great write...10+++