Out Of The Tales Of Diamonds Poem by Rex-mayor Ubini

Out of the tales of diamonds
Tales of golds, tales of silvers
Told of familiar faces
When it looks like I’m coming last
I know I’m coming first.

Everyday wind dares to close
The window against my eyes
It breezes with air of mockery
On her huge heavy wings
And to my mind it whispers;
How long would you breathe
Before your dreams and goals are achieved?
This is my answer:
Every plant has its time
A time to sow, a time to reap
A giant tree takes time to grow
A giant tree needs time to bear fruit
Where breath brims my nostril
The legs of hope may wobble
But there is no mile too far to reach.