Wooden footprints stepping down long trails that take
me deeply into remembrances of collective times no
longer here in life.
Thinking incessantly without any further ado, touching
interior attitudes that are being held within a pattern
made from yesterday's designs.
Now, still being down the road of our lives, stressed
in messages of this time in a moment left over from a
mixture of thoughts.
Only now, taken away in a picture of dire comfort, with
many lapses of memory sitting out the effects of life
tomorrow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem