I remember the days when they were young
We didn’t have much, but we had something
Poverty was along the road side
Dreams were just dreams
Father was never there
Made mother take his place
America took him, she would say
At times death visited
I wondered if I would ever make it
If I could ever reach the moon
Maybe I am just a poet
I remembered the days like yesterday
The tears on the bottom stairs
Would papa ever come back
Would he think I am a poet
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
dear obinna lovely lines; Would papa ever come back? Would he think I am a poet?