Till when shall I wait for you,
For I'm ageing,
Whilst you are still growing,
We come in different clay,
‘we' that is still ‘you' and ‘me'
We unite at convenience,
When no one shall be around,
Afraid of loneliness,
We share no silence,
We shall talk in broken words
And narrate stories discrete,
I for me and you for you,
‘we' shall be lost someday,
Of all the ties that unite men,
Solitude is the nastiest.
We come in different clay, ....beautiful line add and still want to for ever play it will be like adding salt to poetry
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
How very true, your last lines: Of all the ties that unite men, Solitude is the nastiest. 10+