My Father Is Playing A Losing Game. Poem by U Win Kyi

My Father Is Playing A Losing Game.



My father is neither a Wall Street financier,
Nor a big stock and share holder,
Nor a famous industrial investor,
He is just a hard laborer.
One day he thought what if he died early,
That would leave his family in misery,
With a great financial difficulty.
As an inheritance, he will leave a little money,
Not a large and grand property.
Then he bought a life insurance policy,
To give us a net of safety,
So that we could feel a sense of security,
So that our future plan won't be thrown into jeopardy.
He pays the fees yearly.
But his death never arrives,
Up to now he is still alive,
His heart still beating, his lung still breathing all the same,
He knows he is playing the losing game.
O, Dad, we would never trade you with any amount of money,
Which cannot make us happy,
Our life without you will be meningless and empty.

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