Sun is up, coffee's hot,
a roll and fruit just hits the spot.
I read the paper, check the mail
before I sail into life's big sea;
each day's routine is monotony.
Years have passed, left me in a haze;
long days when reality screams
have drowned the memories
of my youthful dreams.
I drag myself home at end of day,
with a sigh of relief, I can stay
in my castle, my little retreat,
kick off my shoes and put up my feet.
And reflection brings me little sorrow;
I'm too damn tired to change tomorrow
when the sun is up, and the coffee’s hot,
and that roll and fruit just hits the spot.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem