Are you there?
Am I here?
Do we even exist
in this wistful world?
You make this
so awfully hard.
Melancholy
I will have drifted into.
Why do we quarrel
over the slightest words?
I demand you perceive
the dying lily -
bestow it upon
your memories.
Until we meet again
shall you acknowledge
the presence of the Never-Was,
be wary of the Could-Be
as the Had-Been
always have.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Change is course that is ever present to the not so prevalent. Barely noticed, voice quiet as mouse. Maybe it just needs to scream really loud. Good poem, could be 's are opportunities not yet taken. Has been 's, are already gone. No reason live upon either. There is to much in the here and now to worry about.