What is the day?
So long has one asked.
The day is -uh-I don't know.
Minutes to hours -Years measured by dreams.
The pattern of time
To leave it's soul unknown.
I waited for today to happen.
So many years to reveal its' truth.
The innocent victim
finally meets the weary soul.
Should I smile and feel I won the battle?
Or does the battle still rage on?
Gold mixed beauty,
Clinging to a borrowed dream.
To push time to a moment
When the veil was lifted
And my heart,
was a friend,
Not a thief.
11-3/4/12
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem