Lonesome is a painter;
Whom uses only the deepest oils;
On the brightest parchment of the soul.
Her strokes are memories, of
If, and
Could, and
What, and
Why.
Of love and it’s absence-
Fleeting sands.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Amazingly expressed and written. Great piece of work!