It is the merry summer of our love,
The time is ripe for harvesting the fields...
Heat is no more; the warmth is all we have,
Enough to be content in our present needs.
The food for thought as good as all the meals you cook,
The house you made home where utter comfort reigns,
The children who inherited your looks
They are the landmarks of our winding ways.
Your kisses are as warm as our walks,
Walks at the park which started shedding autumn leaves,
I never thought I could enjoy our talks
As much as the embraces that you give.
But children, children, what will be your path?
How will you find the road towards you home?
If only I could give you my advice,
If only I could pass you what I learned.
September 9, 2009