Sam called me;
In morning, too early,
He was lost after wife,
Went on train and took off.
“Let me try, ” he thought and
Chose a road to his right,
He drove and drove like raindrops.
He followed bents and curves.
He’s my friend of old day;
Of school, five decades;
On this path that was new
He went where house was few.
At roads’ end graveyard;
Each stones nicely marked.
“That is it, ” he slowed;
Slowly he stopped.
Picked his phone off the hook
He dialed my number.
“If this is end of us
Our efforts; let’s be nice.”
He said and, kept my mind
Think of him and his thought.
Hey you all;
Think of this as last call.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem