I quit my habitual smoking,
Not that I do not like it or health wise
Because I am not in a position to afford
And I dreamed of my new job in the land of opportunity.
I myself keep on standing nearby a decayed post office as a mail box
And my pale scrappy tongue oust as a moisturizer for stamps and envelopes.
Precious time runs like an unicorn and end of the month the weighty rent creeps like a venomous serpent.
Light, water and gas bills
This and that taps my head like a woodpecker.
What a sad brief sleep and a long non-stop run to earn?
Oh! I am almost tired my dearest
And this 'Work horse' really needs a rest either in a rickety stable.
*I humbly dedicate this poem to all my poet friends and the Attorney-at-law Mr.Surjit.Singh who appears for my political asylum case.
Postscript
Deep as first love, and wild with all regret;
O Death in life, the days are no more!
(Alfred, Lord Tennyson[1089-1892])
-Tears, Idle tears-
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Unique title. And the content of your poem does not disappoint. Life is hard but you are always up to the Himalayan challenge. You have my respect and admiration. Prayers for you and yours always. Warmest regards, Sandra