A Twist on Translation
Grasping my hand tightly,
warmth radiating from your fingertips—
you lead me along a trodden path.
Trees sway in the gentle breeze,
leaves shift aimlessly against the wind.
Aromas of wildflowers permeate our bodies like ghosts.
Still water,
shimmers beneath the golden glow of a setting sun.
You squeeze my hand even tighter,
and together—
together we stand like the silhouettes of a forgotten day.
We turn.
Trees fade,
green vanishes into an array of red
leaves that fall like ash from a dying fire.
Brisk air cuts through our hands,
and severs our dying hearts.
I look up…
Snowflakes land upon my tongue,
the bittersweet taste of youth.
Trees creak,
an eerie sound in this dense cold.
Spinning around I feel the shadows of loneliness,
seeping through my frozen bones.
I am alone.
Like lost footprints amidst white snow.

Wowza! Robert Frost meets Loss of Innocence. Vivid & active sensory imagery (you really cover ALL the senses here) and a mood that embodies the sense of loss amidst the dynamism of the woodsy imagery. Especially love the sounds of the final stanza.
really really strong language and imagery! great poem elliott wooo