In the garments and scuffs of paint on the floor
In the sections and imperfections of neatly laid tile
In the wood grain planks of our moral fiber
I see faces
In the rough random patterns of these stucco walls
In the drifting clouds of Mother Earths mind
In the memories of the ones left behind
I see faces
In the windows and mirrors of this flaccid pond
In travelled vessels in roads like veins
In continents and lands beyond
I see faces
In the hustle and bustle of the market place
In color, blind to the human race
I see faces
And, they are beautiful
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What a beautiful thought is created! Friend you havepenned it beautifully.Thanks for sharing it. rekhamandagere