A breezy Friday
With the windows open
Leaves rustling gently for the birds
Their hideaway, their secret dell;
A day of memories
A day to reflect and stand still
A day to be glad for what we have
And to come, who can tell?
So many years of pain
So much waiting for tomorrow
But today is here
And all is well.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem