Why does it have to be us,
and be this way?
When we talk, it turns into a fuss,
like a storm that can't stay at bay.
What happened to the good times?
That were so amazing,
when our love just climbs
and our fire keeps blazing.
But those times are over,
sadly gone forever.
Like a dried up clover.
But forgetting them, i shall never.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice words.. a ten from me x