A gentle orchid in the breeze,
a boulder to rooted ground.
Water always finds a way to make a rock so round.
A song will always find a way to wiggle into your ears,
and ghost stories by crackling fires invite those wary fears.
The world is very tentative, and sensitive at best,
to make me laugh,
to make me cry,
to make me close my eyes to rest.
The dreams that fall into my head decide to wake me up,
to brush my teeth,
to make my bed,
and lead me to my coffee cup.
if night would not switch back to day,
nor moon to shining sun,
I'd wake myself up on again;
A new day's just begun!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem