Filed away in a dark, dusty drawer, books of records keep
their place.
Baptisms, marriages, deaths, all written neatly in order,
holding the dates of each event.
Mistakes, there are a few, but they can be corrected by
speaking to a canon lawyer.
Carefully typed certificates given to the oldest sister,
brought back to Phoenix, Arizona and given to each one of
her sisters and brother, the only copies they have ever
owned.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem