Pardon me, my love.
I selfishly superceded my limits.
It’s time we realize that:
Blind lanes with dead ends
Can never meet.
Let’s not nurture dreams,
That can never materialize.
Let’s be pragmatic.
The child I mother,
Fits my lap;
But the man I adore,
Scares me.
My child,
Your poor, half-inch mother -
Stands as a puny dwarf
Before your ever growing
Colossal dimensions.
Please leave me -
To handle my solitude alone;
I’ll practice detachment,
And in course of time,
I’ll learn to handle it.
May God help us both.
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Dear Oniza, if winter comes, can spring be far behind? Keep hope alive. love Mandira