Six or seven years old I was
I remember holding those hands
Very tight on a Sunday as he taught
Me how to cross that busy road
Over and over again
He reminded me look both ways
And make sure no car was close by
Together we walked throughout the filthy city
As we enjoyable the serenity
Of each others company
How I vividly remember
Him carrying me on his broad shoulders
Sharing his joys
If there was a way
To retrace my footsteps and emotions
I would definitely skip many adventures
To run back to those memorable happiness
I miss you father
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem