The pieces lie scattered
on the floor in my room.
No owner's manual;
Only God's sweeping broom.
Hands breaking in handcuffs;
Mind sidles in the sun.
Eyes perplexed, getting late;
But questions still remain!
The puzzle's incomplete;
The knowing were thwarted.
The sand glass flips again;
In this life, we're shorted!
Hands broken in handcuffs;
Mind's idle in reruns.
Eyes at rest, gotten late;
Feet sear in a brainwave!
Until...
Mister Green gets me stoned;
Another wasted night.
But laughter fills the room,
making us feel alright.
Hands break out of handcuffs;
Mind opens to the fun.
Eyes relax, turning day;
But I'm in my dream's way!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem