My dear UNKNOWN (10)

Words from far away


In your long trip,
Don't forget my greetings,
For my poor kids,
Who are waiting me.

I still have to fight,
With a damned power,
Which is wishing life,
Through a strange mean.

In that novel rifle,
Phosphorus is burning;
But the flame appeared,
Continuously smaller.

I for ever send you,
All my joy and love,
As a poorest soul does,
In the Christmas days.

Suntwin