Bereft Poem by borgjie distura
Bereft
It made me cold
Hearing what you told
Knowing that you left
It made me bereft.
I just want to be lost
By all means and cost
Amid the churning waters
Made of blood and tears.
There are no more reasons
Only tasteless passions
A guitar with no strings
A journey without ending
Will you come back to me
And complete the melody
If not, make it easy
Tell me to be ready.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/4/2024 6:44:03 AM # 1.0.0.1119
