I see her doing something simple, paying bills,
or leafing through a magazine or book,
and wish that I could say, and she could hear,
that now I start to understand her love
for all of us, the fullness of it.
It burns there in the past, beyond my reach,
a modest lamp.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Loved it... A small picture of your feelings!