The tighter you squeeze,
The grains of sand,
The more of them,
Slip through your hand.
No matter how tight,
You make your fist,
They'll drain right out,
Just like a mist.
There's just so many,
Grains of sand,
That will ever fit inside,
your hand.
So be content,
With what you got,
If you stop and look,
It's quite a lot.
9/24/10 Alton Texas
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem