Ah to ponder what could have been,
Sulking at the close of each day.
Wishing I could only have found the nerve,
To say what I'm longing to say.
The shadow my pen casts on the page,
Is all I'm likely to leave behind.
The imprint you leave on my heart,
Proves that you're truly one of a kind.
An orange, yellow, blue, sky;
Is all that accompanies me.
Because at the end of each day,
Your endless eyes are all I see.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem