I stood at the gravesite
Remembering days of old
As the memories of her cooking
Wafted through the house
And then the sound of music
On the old record player
Would echo through the house
Jim Reeves and Island Breeze
Swaying to the music
As both mum and dad
Recalled the days of old
They spoke in their mother tongue
First my fathers
Then my mums
It was wonderful to hear
Them banter in fun
Dad would laugh
Mum would scold
Sisters, Brothers hiding in fun
Then at the dinner table
Everyone behaving
Always at their best
Only listening to
What mother knows best
Smiles to one self
Remember the days
Wishing they were here
Sharing their story’s of old
Slides to the ground
Crying one day I will see them once more again
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem