He talked of how crowded the bus had been that day,
But I could only remember us wedged together in that fray,
He talked of how cold the wind had blown,
But I could only recall alas! how swiftly the seconds had flown.
He talked of the delicacies we had eaten, how much they had cost,
But I could only think of that little cuff-link he had lost.
He talked of our shoes, how they had filled with grains of sand,
But I could only hear the chirpy sparrows and the merry little band.
For him the day had been dull and bleak and grim....
But for me it had meant twenty four heavenly hours spent with him.
But I could only remember us wedged together in that fray,
He talked of how cold the wind had blown,
But I could only recall alas! how swiftly the seconds had flown.
He talked of the delicacies we had eaten, how much they had cost,
But I could only think of that little cuff-link he had lost.
He talked of our shoes, how they had filled with grains of sand,
But I could only hear the chirpy sparrows and the merry little band.
For him the day had been dull and bleak and grim....
But for me it had meant twenty four heavenly hours spent with him.
3 comments:
If a man walks in the woods for love of them half of each day, he is in danger of being regarded as a loafer. But if he spends his days as a speculator, shearing off those woods and making the earth bald before her time, he is deemed an industrious and enterprising citizen.
Restlessness and discontent are the first necessities of progress.
Keep the tracks alive……
very true! u said it!
"Poetry is like bread;" wrote Pablo Neruda, "it should be shared by all, by scholars and by peasants, by all our vast, incredible, extraordinary family of humanity."
A poetry of bread, where everyone may eat." "Why did you want to write?" he was asked. "I wanted to be a voice," he answered.
So great of you to bring his poetry to light,shows the same intention of Pablo “you are becoming a voice” as simple as that
Hope for more in the future,keep the tracks alive....
Post a Comment