A storm has passed through the town
last night. Rains lashed
Trees fell, leaves green and brown
flew, houses broke, dreams crashed
My brother sketched a figure with pencil
on a piece of paper, and I kept it on my table
Daddy looked at us through the sketch in pencil
Before death, he looked very feeble
Our dad was alive; always talked through the sketch
But the cruel storm snatched it from us
It's lull now, searching the piece of paper to fetch
our dream dad back to us
(04/02/2018)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem