A poverty-stricken morning and the ragged Sun wipes the infected eyes lazily of his questionnaire palm.
In the gloomy breakfast on the hopeless table lain a rotten scramble egg and few slices of transparent bread.
Then salmonella dance in the peanut butter.
A decanter full of tap water, the broken tumbler;
And a rusty fork & spoon,
A faded napkin and some venomous toothpicks.
He sits on his rickety chair with tearful eyes and looking into the infinity through the seaside shattered window in his shack.
And he dreams of an invulnerable haven.
* Our Father;
Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.
-Amen-
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem