The sun has risen, the world is new,
The sky has a new shade of blue.
Under this vast open what do we see?
I am sure it's something that'll make you flee.
Cars over here, cars over there,
Every morning I see the never-ending queue of cars around me,
Trying to fly away, trying to be free.
I look into the cars and the people inside,
Some of them mad with this frustrating ride.
Some cars have old people with their serious looks,
Most of them reading newspaper or books.
And there are those other teenagers around,
Who are angry and impatient with the honking and sound.
I see some small children going to school in uniform,
Dozing off happily, dreaming of Jerry and Tom.
I too wait in this never-ending mess,
Which increases my already high stress.
The new world presents me with this every day,
I bear it because this traffic jam, for hours will stay.
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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Edna St. Vincent Millay
(22 February 1892 – 19 October 1950)
Oliver Wendell Holmes
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