Her ding-dong bells like voice invites me to play hopscotch.
And I just want to explain her,
Dear daughter, I am like your grandfather and I have already hopped over the marked squares in the tattered life and my fragile heart hangs on a string,
If I hop again that would collapse and scatter like dew.
To all my friends in gratitude.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Good use of imagery and metaphor in this provocative piece. Take care. Warm regards, Sandra