Whispers, they are all around.
Man grows, and stops.
Listening to his heart.
It pumps blood then stops.
It is his life that bothers him
The things that he missed, the way he ran and ran.
Under the tree he thinks of what now?
Remembering his first kiss,
his first crush.
Will it ever come back?
To be young again.........
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem