Everything is still there,
very much...
Kept carefully in my house
Your face in widows
Your feet at the doors
Your giggles in the patio
Your smell in the rooms
Feel of your touch on the beds
And your beaming smile
still glued to the walls
Everything us same
Like those days
Instructions you passed
Are kept in the closet
Memories piled up neatly in almirahs
Reckonings of old days on calendars
Everything is same
But..
There is no portrait of yours.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem