Those days of solitude,
of roaming the house
Not knowing what to do,
but ponder my thoughts
No one to talk to or share a thing
No one to bother if I broke a thing
No new faces to brighten up the day
Nothing to relieve dreariness of days
The pain, the frustration,
the bitterness pent up in my mind
Now comes out again and shows itself
When I pick up the pen.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I understand. But you definitely have a gift for writing and thoughtful things to say.
Thanks Laurie.