I wake up to the discotheque World.
The stars disappear and the pale moon still hangs in the sky
With a broken smile.
Plump sun comes out like a ripen orange,
I think of the last night's meritorious dream.
Oh! I was a playboy king in the palace's harem
While my smiling queen in a sound sleep after some sedatives.
But the daybreak I am just the janitor who opens & closes the door for my insomniac Boss's world.
What would life be without dreams? But you woke up to a sunny day. Good imagery in this one. As always, more than worthy of a ten. Warm regards, Sandra
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You have such rapport with metaphor Nimal 'Plump sun comes out like a ripen orange', is brilliant and the story this poem tells is both poignant and pithy. I can see the twinkle in your eye as you write this. love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥