it is something
that we write every
morning that
we put a little sun
between the hills of
our routine
fingers of sunshine
to caress our weary hair
chirping birds and
soft whispers of sea breeze
to make us work so
well on the day ahead.
it is something that
we write that provides
another landmark
to this usual journey of
the working people
something to cherish and
remember before we all
succumb to the common
deaths of ennui
to the usual surrender
of everybody's
malady.
a white flower in the
garden of our mind
perhaps a moon at night
when we all come back
for the supper that had
gone cold and for
those who have not
yet arrived
when midnight comes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A great philosophical poem on life has been astutely and incisively delineated by you dear RIC.. I appreciate the way of presentation. Thanks for sharing.10