In memory of Geeta Atmaram Mam
(The Second Coming, always the first in memory)
Hush, silent
The voice is no more
The smile now unseen
The warmth receding
The voice
Booming, reverberating
The smile
Inviting, endearing
bright crimson mark
Burning
a memory
Nonpareil.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem