"Oh, you are dying? I really could care less!
I have a garden to attend to, for folks to impress.
I live in a state of eternal busy-ness.
No heart of mine, shall I share.
See, I am vacuuming my stairs,
Aren't you impressed? "
"I am retired and busier than
a leader of any great nation.
Small house, dead husband
Forty year old still living with me.
Permanently, cemented in and
I must be there for her each
second, don't you see? "
"Stop texting or emailing me!
I am dedicated to my house,
not people, don't you get it?
I am a master of pretense that
I am your friend.
But to tell you the truth, I don't
care about you nor when your
life ends.! "
Thank God poets are not so
They care about life more and
each other, far from hollow.
And yet we don't really have long
We live in the present, all over the
world, free and untethered.
Sure, a few are arrogant but most are
a very caring lot.
Consider yourself, very blessed, poet!
Part of glorious flowers, God's
special, fragrant, aggregate!
Love to all, Panagiota Romios
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem