Painful
Was the night;
Painful
Was her grieving.
Although,
The sepulchral
Rites of her mother's
Corpse, wasn't
The reason for her grief. Mainly.
However,
It couldn't be
Said that the loss
Of a loved one wasn't
A reason for her pain.
No one could
Explain those tears,
Let alone decrypt the imp
That bred the foxing dolor.
Painful
Was the grieving,
Painful also
Was that night;
Same night the remains
Of her Lover was lowered.
She was neither
At Henry's, nor Mama's funeral.
Though she did all she could,
But luck left her to wallow in misery.
Like a cheetah,
She moved with swift celerity;
She couldn't afford to arrive at
Mama's funeral late.
Sadly,
A six month's coma
Sitting in a pothole on a rough
Road, put her to sleep, hence her
Painful Grieve.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice write. Very meaningful ink. Thanks.