My brother related a strange dream that he had:
It took place in a bar; he was there with our Dad.
they both ordered a Guinness, in the mood for a stout.
They both were committedto enjoy their night out
The barkeep then asked if they'd be running a tab.
Jim reached in his pocket, he paid for his drinkand Dad's.
" I don't think we will."" Just the one now" He said,
"For I'm on blood thinners and my Dad here is dead."
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem