Remember that vibrant, beautiful yellow rose? 
That you gave to me on our first date. 
Before it lost all its beauty, 
I trapped it, 
pressed it between the dark pages of 
my favourite book.
Where it slowly became a; 
faded, 
crushed, 
frail, 
broken version, 
of its former self. 
What I did to that rose, 
because I wanted to keep it forever, 
is
what your love did to me. 
Tara Schley                
                    This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem