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ladislav-josephsPoems
Son, who will never be born My father was a writer Wrote a lot of poems About love and pain I am his son He told me that he loved me Forever and always That time I was little boy I didn't understand Now I have no one Accompany me My father's ashes spread  in forest and lake He is fish in the river He told me it will be so I go to this forest to be with him My father living in leaves and trees Now I have no one to help me grow My father went to where I don't know He is a green grass on the hill The bridge made of wood Clouds in the skies that he became I was told of his smile like sunshine Blue eyes like the sky And  like cloud, white hair I dream of being born, having dad
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Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 6:46 AM UTC
The son who never will be born.
Son, who will never be born My father was a writer Wrote a lot of poems About love and pain I am his son He told me that he loved me Forever and always That time I was little boy I didn't understand Now I have no one Accompany me My father's ashes spread  in forest and lake He is fish in the river He told me it will be so I go to this forest to be with him My father living in leaves and trees Now I have no one to help me grow My father went to where I don't know He is a green grass on the hill The bridge made of wood Clouds in the skies that he became I was told of his smile like sunshine Blue eyes like the sky And  like cloud, white hair I dream of being born, having dad
ladislav-josephs
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ladislav-josephs
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 6:46 AM UTC
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