'' I should have; I could have;
After all he was a good soul; ''
At the funeral we always say!
Perhaps to cover-up some of our
inadequacies,
At the end of the day!
Is it our lethargy, or our indifference,
or our immaturity;
Which prevents us from showing our
true feelings to the living,
I cannot really say!
Yet the mind finds it's solace,
In writing countless letters to the dead,
And meeting them in our dreams; -
Perhaps a therapy to sustain us,
And to live by, - day after day!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem