Doll house
Smoke came from the attic
the doll house was aflame.
Burnt down to ashes
as were the small figurine
that lived noiselessly
in childhood memories.
A casket
tiny music box had a dancer
buried
at the bottom of the garden.
Ashes to ashes.
Even memories will vanish.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem