Empty picture frames hanging forlornly on faded walls of yesterday.
Illumination of fractured love from long ago, stands out from
empty frames, paintings long since gone.
Along with pictures of lovers now torn apart by death's insistence.
No longer written in the annals of time, just cobwebbed spider
strings clinging to walls with no memories left at all.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
this is exeptional poetry Roseann.keep up the brilliant work hey