Where are you, dear mom?
Hearing you are ill I've come
With the cherries from Michigan
The grapes from Thailand,
The apples from North Georgia
The oranges from California
The dates, the figs from Arabia
The sweetmeats from India,
Sea food, weeds from Japan
Spices and fishes from Ceylon
I am waiting for long and long
When I will sit with you along?
Some say you are no more
How can I take it any more?
I offer them to share the fruits
If they give your proper news,
Yet I am waiting with the fruits
I'll feed you with my own hands
I will know your all conditions
My heart beat will be promoting.
Copyright © Muzahidul Reza |27 September.2017
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem