Memories
My childhood flashes across my mind,
How everyone at home was so kind.
Whenever I would fall sick
And vacantly stare at the window sill.
My father would quietly sit on my bed,
And put his warm hand on my forehead,
And softly ask me how I was
And kindly reassure me this too shall pass.
But now he is no more.
He is never going to walk through that door.
That’s life, we have to go on,
And let go and not forever mourn.
Oh yes they will forever live in my heart
As if never ever had to part.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
Added by Poetry Lover
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