those little needles on cheeks;
your kisses, daddy, are a fond memory
i always turn to for solace.
i love your moustache; they make you
and your pipe, it makes you so much
like my intellectual hero, Albert Einstein.
i am always fasincated
by the smoke swirling into the air as you
write through the night.
always fascinated why they always disappeared
into nothingness when I was a child.
As i grew older, it has jolted me to realise
that one day we too will
follow the transient smoke;
disappear into the silence
of the night, into another realm.
I am grateful that with each
growing year, my love for you have
grown deeper, thickened like smoke
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.