The clock struck twelve noon
A signal to leave one’s work
Lunch break is yummy good
Everybody stirred away for food
My appetite complained
That I should stop working
They called hey you’re a workaholic
Heroes have claimed their solemn pick
I only smiled, said nothing
I kept on working, time consuming
I could hear the clock beating
I could hear my tummy ticking
Nobody knew I lied
Denying myself to take a bite
I should save the penny for a ride
To take me back home for the night
Nobody knew I cried inside
But it was something I should hide
Damn this sinful pride
The dreadful truth once lavished, now deprived
Being a widow is such a willow
With flowers glow, but without petals to show
Had to stretch long branches to hold
More tomorrows for my children to grow
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Well done Little Star, a lovely poem... Colin J...