Seated in an old arm chair as if glancing the sky
Waiting patiently for the days offering
You could mistake him for an old grandpa
Yet he is a great man to my life on earth
But papa is just like that
Folding his arms with a walking stick by his side
Remincing words as if in communication with heavenlies
You could mistake him as having run out of mind
Yet he is the great man that mentors me
But papa is my hero
Strolling down memory lane of memoirs
Patiently yet making step by step across the land
You could mistake him as measuring the area of his land
Yet he was walking step by step with God
But papa is my refuge
Basking the evening fading sun
Slowly and patiently staring at the setting sun
You could mistake him as telling the heavenlies goodbye
Yet he was supplicating my all to God
Before he finally calls it a night
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Dedicating it to my mentor-My papa who is ageing but still there to give me a treat and tips of life including praying for me. Thank you papa.