Dear Mom: When I am the baby
Your kind hands hold me tight in your warmest breasts
I remember the last time I see you at the sad house
You were making me sad with your death body
The sad wind, yours closed eyes, your grace love
Watching TV opposed to the bed you died
Spending summer nights eating homemade dinners prays
Love the fact that your beauty likes the great Buddha
Miss you a lot, no one that I can't compare
I use the book you bought me to that day for writing the poems
Writing sonnets about memory's and my loves
That's the reason my poems sound this loves
From hiding beauty from my young brown eyes
Dear Mom: I miss you so much from sunset to moon shine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem