4th of July
I met her in dream on way out, a child I adorn.
Fourth of July, tomorrow, is day she was born.
In mail dad’s sent card.
Far away and unseen, she is gone by wind, gust
In my mind and my heart, she flies as she must.
Old and poor but lovely, we gathered new house
In dream we had moved, refurnished everything.
I was out after jobs.
That is where was she, sat on bench in waiting.
I lowered head for a talk, face skin dried partly.
Strands of hair white.
With the list in my hand I left with “Goodbye.”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem