monday morning
faces, schulptured in sunken gloom,
throng the streets
in despairing and anxious haste.
being once again, habitually,
shocked by the terror
and cruelty of reality,
as the clock starts its journey
along the rails of another week
of the same.
I have been reading your poems and I like this one very much. I remember the gloom and the anxious haste!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like it Well penned