In affairs of the heart,
we always keep mementoes
in our memory of the affair
so in the lonely times
we can remember as if we are there.
A stolen kiss under the moonlight,
when no one is around.
A dance under the stars,
without any musicians about,
our mementoes of love.
The first time our eyes met
and the questions they asked.
The warmth of each other’s arms
as the cool night descends,
more mementoes of love.
2 April 2011
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem