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As I sit here in quite repose thinking about those I've left behind I think of all the times gone by that shall never come again.

And I hear the winds roar outside my door and all becomes clear to me
again.

For as long as I have those times and feels to remember, I know that
I can never be alone, so come, let the memories begin.

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Poetry is what is lost in translation.

Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

Magik62’s Poems (12)

Title Comments
Title Comments
Old Soul 0
In Every Way 0
A Lonely Place To Be 1
Alone With My Thoughts 1
My Friend 0
A Life Unfinished 0
Lost Soul 2
Shine on Little Star 0
Shine on Little Star 1
Time 0
I Wonder If God's a Writer 1
See Me As I Am 3