Prayers On On Grave Poem by Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal

His peace place

No, it was not pleasure place
But I faced
Many times
When in occasional times

Father was really kind
Sympathetic and not blind
To the need of members
He never got angered for our demand

I felt vacuum, when god took his soul
It was tragic call
We all wept for his departure
He was to be buried under earth

For few days I went there regularly
Prayed for his peace and wept constantly
As the days passed on
Not a single day had gone as absent

I well remembered his words
He used to put his hand even while working
He will say" never have ill gotten wealth"
I remembered his words when grown after his death

The flowers have also grown
With fragrance and smell known
I pray for his rest some more years
As his words beat my ears