We are sitting on the ridge
Looking down at our youth
Which lies forlorn in the valley;
We have burnt each bridge
In search of the truth
For our spirits to rally;
Each one of us a sepia image
Transfixed in time
Thoughts no longer golden;
Hurled by the world’s scrimmage
We have lost the rhyme
Our pasts in trust beholden.
trust beholden, good writing, thanks. Please read my poems and comment.
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I would like to translate this poem
Hello Paul the poet. Thank you for your review of my poem SAND. I enjoyed this piece of yours as well. Loyd