

Her heart aches.
Her children are afar.
They only care about their petty little lives and their petty little problems.
They are worried about their big problems.
They only remember their siblings when they feel they will get something out of it.
They argue and fight. They hardly agree on something to the full.
They only have meals together at the table on the festivities. Even then they argue.
They don’t remember their roots. The adopted children are looked at with disdain.
Their mother sits and waits.
Her heart aches.
“When will we become a real family? Maybe ... one day ... before I die.”
3 comentários:
"When will we become a real family. Maybe one day before I die."... e porque não? :-)
I'm absolutely delighted with such a marvellous poem that is a metaphor defending Europe! One day before I die is a long time!
Cheers,
ALM
Olhe que o seu blog também não está nada mal!
Beijinhos e obrigada pela visita!
PS: Se quiser pode linkar-se ao amar-ela. É só clicar no logotipo do páginas amar-ela e adicionar o seu blog na categoria da sua preferência!
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