I am home again Mom!
Your poor little vagabond,
After a strenuous adventure.
I bought you some rare black pearls.
A gypsy woman sold in the port of Casablanca.
She read the mind too and forced me to go back home soon.
And to whom I show this loose-leaf travelogue?
Because Mom you are already departed leaving me in a solitary inn.
I replace the black pearls into your missing necklace
Which I found in the back graveyard while searching your tomb.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Home is definately a state of mind in this one. I can hear your inner cry. We all long, at times, to go back and be comforted by the one who gave us unconditional love. Lovely work. Warm regards, Sandra