Distant sands of heaven gently scrape against my mind,
slightly grating against all the memories of Dad I hold
inside.
Ebbing and waning across my heart in turbulent distress,
wondering what will happen, what is to come next.
Will life go on for a while longer yet, or will it stop
this morning in a much worn hospital bed.
Gently folding tears, storing them inside, not wanting
to shed them just yet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem