Taking little steps backward, remembering with a clarity,
conversations from the past.
Exacting moments with words, telling the story of what we
have gone through in our lives.
Standing on edges of our horizons, we realize our lives
are made up of mostly past images, talking from graves
of our hearts and minds.
Now only reaching us through connections of our soul's
memories.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem