Morning Ritual Poem by Manonton Dalan
Morning Ritual
this road is riddled with cones
it appears to me; west circus
pot holes; as big as my tire
i could see i'll be too tired
to work my eight long hours
i wonder if other state does
our famous corner store pack
with early morning coffee drinkers
some stirring theirs looking busy
very few european cars stops here
mostly big four wheel drives roars
or rice burners; small to be notice
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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9/19/2024 5:07:19 PM # 1.0.0.1119
