They are on the floor,
Each one at the end,
In between their brood,
In the innocent sleep.
The blue polyethylene roof,
Has millions of little stars,
Never slept peacefully,
During their entire lullaby.
He is wide awake,
Expects the children to snore,
She is not interested,
In adding additional member.
He wakes from the point A,
And he has to go to point B,
In between, their troubles,
Sometimes he is successful.
Traveling such distance is a nightmare,
Touching someone's limp is a mere waste,
Holding their breath not to create the tornado,
What a life, it is when the birds do better!
Nice piece of work. Thanks for sharing this poem with us. E.K.L.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A great poem, life can be very hard for some. the government need to give help when needed instead of lining rich peoples pockets even more.