A pure white Persian cat had just carefully
shook each of her kitten's throats
until they were asleep.
She had no milk to feed them.
She laid them in a row in the sun's
last rays to keep them warm.
Their eyes dimmed into the night.
Now as I stare into empty cupboards
and the bottomless grief on mothers'
faces, I wonder
how many infant souls
have been silently laid to rest
gently beneath the daffodils?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem