This was written based on a BBC news I saw yesterday 27/02/24. A fathers pain after loosing 3 daughters, wife and relatives.



Three roses were blooming beyond many fences,
With the kisses of dewdrops on the petals in the dusk.
They were shining beautifully in the dawn of sunrise,
Fluttering in the gentle breeze,
As if waving to me, asking to come near.

Suddenly, a blustery wind of jealousy,
Hatred, or something else, blew over,
Because it could not bear these trees growing nicer.
In a moment, my roses were ruined in a fume,
Roots, flowers, even buds were destroyed without humour.

My entire life was shattered into pieces,
Hundreds of trees, flowers, and buds were taken.
Fumes are flying over, the grey sky is grieving forever.
‘Who will call me Dad’ again, I ask from you forever and ever.


UK