As I wander through what ifs and thoughts unproductive,
I am lost.
Living in yesterday instead of tomorrow.
For giving up isn't moving forward,
or is it?
The route to go was always so sure,
but not yelling anymore.
And the open window's hard to find,
when the door shuts hard behind.
But it doesn't matter which road you take,
as long as you get there.
To see the sights as you breathe the air it brings.
My journey grew me up,
in a respect for the beauty of love.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A refined poetic imagination, John A. You may like to read my poem, Love And Lust. Thank you.