The sad story of a child3

in poetry •  last year


Forty-five is not a series of numbers
A journey of time
Go to the twilight gate

The proof is becoming more real,
Wrinkles of the lily and eyelids
Reminiscent of so much pain
White hair awakens
That you're old

Your first step is gleeful
Now limped by events
A tireless body
Making friends with syringes

Although your body is getting thinner
You keep laughing
Seeing me grow up
Be patient father,
I'll let you lean back
Like I lean on you

I miss laughing together on an old wagon
When heading back to a place called home
What you create from sweat and tears.

               # MALIHASMARMAR#
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