It was a small New England town.
Tiny streets summer homes, and soft
sounds of waves whispered to me.
From my bed room window I could
see ships pass with grace and charm.
A wild wind blew through my life that summer.
He was my own and now gone forever.
The caves of my young heart cried.
Shady reality set in.
Yesterday was over.
A harp played sad tunes as I met a
watchman at the gate.
Tell me, I sighed in a low voice, have
you seen my father?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem