Poor in stock but rich in spirit,
my clock does bow and sway
In rags and tatters all unstitched,
with joy do I still pray
My flesh is weak, my home now burnt
just embers to remind
That within this trouble and burning ash,
on the hour
—my heart still chimes
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April,2015)
A poem full of hope. Beautifully penned. As long as the heart still chimes there's always hope to life, of rising again and again from every fall.10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Kurt Philip, such a heartwarming poem👍👍👍