Its hard for you,
It is hardest for me.
Holding back myself,
To watch thee
Do not cry when I leave,
I am no more small only if you believe
That your little girl is now a bride,
Last night my mother said that you cried.
My red bangles and henna choked me, Telling me how my scars and innocence will be,
In crowd of unknown faces,
Will I be able to see my father in all places.
I am heavy with memories,
Finding a way till it buries.
But this heart of mine,
Fail to rhyme,
The sweet lullaby chord of lovely times.
Sometimes I think my papa is an accordion. When he looks at me and smiles and breathes, I hear the notes.
AL LPAPAS love daughters ever so much all gals have to one day leave but papas stay with you daily now ur md read some of my poetry pl RK
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hi Randhir, A pleasure to read your poem - Papa. I know how it feels for a daughter when she leaves her parent's house. Beautiful poem, dear young Poetess! I still can hear the sweet lullaby chords - the accordion! ....10