How bright it is on a Friday, when I am away from everything
that seems so wrong, when I am here in this haven and all the
birds are in song. It does not matter if it's winter or spring, because
I so look forward to everything.This place takes away the sadness
of life and it's memories that cut right in like a blade from a knife.
These two days a week that have become heaven to me, they
take away that distance of far gone memory.
Then when it is all over the weekend appears and so
does reality and all my fears. Then Tuesday is here again
from a weekend so long, and all the birds are back in song.
There are pictures that I want to paint with masterly art,
but they are hidden deep within my aged heart.
My life is my fortune because I am not dead yet,
but the loneliness is there and the pattern is set.
My weekends are lonely, but I manage to cope
because I live for the days at The Centre of Hope.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem