Everyday thoughts

To My Daughter

I was eighteen,

you were born.

Those twinkly eyes,

the little mouth that never cries,

all was well.

I was twenty-two,

you were four.

Racing towards the school,

jumping in the icy pool;

all was well.

I was twenty-five,

you were seven.

Divorced with your father,

cheered me up with your humor;

all was well.

I was thirty, 

you were twelve.

Got in the best school of the town,

never ever let me down;

all was well.

I was thirty-five,

you were seventeen.

Silent because of stress,

yet achieved great success;

I thought all was well.

I am thirty-six,

you are in your grave.

Suicided because of workload, they said,

guilt, emptiness, bitterness, tears shed,

all is broken.