Little piles building up,
Creating stacks of tears,
Each morning Breakfast cup,
A headache slowly sears.
Tales of bygone days,
Some heard some not,
Now the memories haze,
New ones are forgot.
Mum still is here,
Mine is somewhere away,
Sometimes full of cheer,
Repetition in the day.
Keep here at Summerville,
Try as I might,
At times dreadfully ill,
Give me some respite.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem