Poem By Saffa Alzghoul
that wooden chair, still memories fall like yellow leaves of an oak tree.
And with all your presence, you still is digging deep inside.
Your voice dwells in my heart, and me lie a child is playing in its rooms.
Your voice flows inside me more and more, as a river which flows on a waste land.
Your lasting picture often brings out life to my old soul.
LET Memories remain on that wooden chair ,
And with all your strength but all me weakness,
Let light outshines o over all that gloomy darkness.