Remember the long days
of endless summer.
How we passed from childhood
to arrogant youth?
Remember the Thespian Pull,
California's Golden Promise
that took you from the Heartland,
and left only half of me?
Wonder after all these years
and space of half a continent,
if ever we should meet again
we could still say 'friends'?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem