'Yet sometimes when the light moves slowly west,
And bells summon a faithful few for prayers,
I see his shadow picking a bouquet.
To live in memory is to be alive.'
[For my grandfather who started to work in the coal mines of West Virginia when he was twelve years old.]-A Hymn to Frost
Sandra Fowler
Who said you're gone
I didn't see any obituary notice
and I hear the whispers
in the wind..............like poems
I copied one for your kind perusal,
Here that comes like a witness
that you're still alive in my sad World?
for Mamta a small birthday present!
nimal p.dunuhinga
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem