Memories Poem by Mamta Agarwal
Memories
My childhood flashes across my mind,
How everyone at home was so kind.
Whenever I would fall sick
And vacantly stare at the window sill.
My father would quietly sit on my bed,
And put his warm hand on my forehead,
And softly ask me how I was
And kindly reassure me this too shall pass.
But now he is no more.
He is never going to walk through that door.
That’s life, we have to go on,
And let go and not forever mourn.
Oh yes they will forever live in my heart
As if never ever had to part.
Its really something which we all feel and mourn.But this is life.It does not stop for anyone.It just continues with its natural speed and we have to get accustomed to its changing nature.A very good poem full of those soft memories which have bcome part of our life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 12:52:24 PM # 1.0.0.1119
'My father would quietly sit on my bed, And put his warm hand on my forehead, ' very touchy, very famaliar memory.