Remaining recording time, three minutes,
That gives them plenty of time,
To call and say there's been a mistake,
And ease my troubled mind,
My heart goes out to the family,
Who'll recieve the shoes and purse,
That looked just like my daughter's,
But I am so sure they are
not hers,
Leave a message if I can't get to the phone,
From this nightmare I want to awaken,
It could not have been my daughter found,
In that lonely area so God forsaken,
For I feel she's on her way here now,
To throw the football with her son,
With her suitcase of toys for the baby,
She'll be tired when this day is done,
So please leave a message,
Please confirm my suspicion,
That it really was not my daughter,
But one who shares her image,
Someone with full lips like hers,
And lovely fingernails,
Someone leave a message please! !
Oh God this must be Hell,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
My friend, I am so sorry. One cannot imagine the depth of your pain. Please treasure those precious memories of her........in life. Think of them as that extraordinary gift she left behind! Be well.