In memoriam of their serenity

I like to sleep again in a cradle.
Where is my perambulator?
I lost my feeding bottle
and the bootees are not fit now.
My beautiful mom who was the protectress
of this fawn.
When I crawl you gave me your big hand
my handsome dad.
Where did you go with my poor mom?
It's unbelievable,
When I take my children to school in the morning
I see both of you through the mist at the handrail
with my old books.

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!