His memory of me lies
In the chink of his boot,
A page in his book,
As he explores a world strange and new
By the sweat of his brow,
And the taste that still tingles on his lips
He'll yearn for his work to be done,
So he can return from those long trips
The room is cold and dark without his presence,
But I'm so sure he'll be here in no time
I can't wait for his warm embrace,
I long to claim that which is mine
Oh, strike me if I'm wrong
Because I'm sure that we are both looking at the same sky,
Right now, I know that he thinks of me and vice versa,
I can almost see the gleam in his eyes
He keeps my heart under his pillow,
And I keep his around my neck
It will all be over soon he says,
And I'll be home again
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem