An Ordinary Man Poem by Akhtar Jawad

I know I am not the best,
but,
I know, too,
that,
I am not the worst.
I know I am not the richest,
but,
I know, too,
that,
I am not the poorest.
I know I am not the mightiest,
but,
I know, too,
that,
I am not the weakest.
Thanks God,
I pass through the dark streets,
in the late night,
dogs are friendly to me
they don't bark at me.
Snatchers know to rob this ordinary man
will be a futile fatigue.
Ignored by the street criminals
unnoticed by the wicked police men,
I come safely at home
take the ordinary dinner with my ordinary wife
and sleep on an ordinary bed.
I am an ordinary man,
but,
my thoughts are not ordinary,
reflected in my dreams
as twinkling stars,
and,
as a shining full moon,
guiding me to walk on the Milky Ways
where with my hand in the hand of a fairy
I go to a garden of colorful and scented flowers.
I pluck a beautiful flower
and,
when I come back
I put that flower on the side table.
I enjoy a deep and sweet sleep.
When I awake I see my diary is open
and a new poem is added in it.
Perhaps,
in my dreams I am not an ordinary man.