The pictures of you are few now
Scattered here and there
Fading, black to grey
Fragments of your old papers
Kept in boxes
Will be lost along the way;
But you are not a distant memory
Although gone for so long
You are still alive and real in me
Guiding me gently
Reviving past glories
Reminding me how it used to be;
And when I am in trouble
You come to my side
Father helping son
And the answer becomes clear
As it always does
'What would you have done? '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem