When you moved in
We had a party,
The two of us
And chilled Barcardi;
What joy to put
The plates away;
How we laughed
Throughout that day;
But when you left,
I wasn’t home;
You put your key
Beside the phone;
You took your gift:
A weaving loom,
And left a thread
In every room.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem