The ocean has claimed her ashes,
The skies the well wishers.
The quartet plays on
alone.
I conduct, I panic
I don't want to be King
I panic, I shop
Fridge full, bellies full, minds dull
To be momdad is hard!
Slowly I sense,
when nothing else,
terrible happens
I relax
let love creep in
and my angels bloom.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem