I pray each day my Mother
That you will come for me,
Though I endure the Parsons saw
I fail to follow he.
I alone in congregation,
He a’preaching to his sea,
Why would his solemn service
Bide his flock to pray for me?
To think of those less fortunate,
Of those so far from home,
Those torn away from loved ones -
Who in strange lands do roam.
Although I am but seven
Should ten lives I live again,
I shall return to walk this soil
And be close to you again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem