Two monks walked
a muddy path
to a mountain stream
waiting there, in great despair
a beautiful fairy queen.
Please help me sirs,
she asked of them
help me across the stream
the waters high
the currents strong
a nightmare of a dream.
The older monk
just grabbed her up
and carried her on his arm
placed her down on the other side
unaware of any harm.
The younger monk
then scolded him
with angry furrowed brows
never touch a woman
reminding him of his vows
The older monk just smiled
as they rambled up the hill
I carried her for a moment
but you will carry her still.
Compassion: The prime directive.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hello poet friend James. I loved your tales of the Two Monks, well written. Loyd PS: Please check out my new book on Amazon or Barnes and Noble, Pumpkinny Tales. Thanks for your support.