Who cares to read of troubled times
of listless hearts and copious tears?
Who cares to read those stilted rhymes,
that speak of grief and unfound fears?
No, I shall write of sunlit days,
of laughter in the dead of night;
of scents of summer's heady haze,
of sparrows wings taking first flight.
I shall write of trees that tower
above the earth, into the sky;
of the smallest white star flower,
of a newborn baby's cry.
And I shall write of funny things,
of dinosaurs that dance on hills;
of crows with multicoloured wings,
and castles with pink window sills.
Of lands with breezes blowing kisses,
of seas that wave with ebb and flow;
of happy love's sweet reminisces,
of skies that laugh with thunder's roar.
Words will not depress, destroy,
Me, I shall write of love and joy.
©
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
you do that abundantly Roann, your poems are a delight to read.