refugee

Refugee


I was seven
On that gloomy day
We were to leave at gunpoint
But I couldn’t flee without my marbles
Under the fig tree
Buried under a rock
My secret place
They smelled like soil
I counted them
One,two,three
Mother, father and me
I left with my parents
And didn’t look back
I felt that my heart would crack
Years and years
Past and died
I visited places
Far and wide
But now as I brush my snowy hair
I ask my self
And wonder
Remember and ponder
I feel like a stranger
People think that I'm a danger
Oh how I wish
And how I pray
I was those marbles
How much were they?
Yes!
One,two,three
United with the ground
Mother father and me




stolen

إذا لاحظتي كلمة stolen

مسروقة يعني منقولة

المهم

بوركتي أختي

ومرورك أكبر شرف لي في مواضيعي

وعلى محبة الله نلتقي