I was a toddler
And still I remember
My deceased poor Mom
Gave me a big slice of Papaya.
Now I realized her unlimited love
When I count the black seeds of the fruit.
* To my dearest Mom! Sorry, I am a pauper and there is no way to publish my dream book of poetry, recently I tried few publishers in the Hell.They like to publish the anthology without a Red cent, but the only problem they say not a single head fond of reading poetry and still they struggle to fill their holey pockets with the dirty currency notes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem