To fume and rumble in endless haste
It is a waste
To not embellish the journey in time
It is a crime.
Robbing one’s self of patience’s subtly joy,
You can’t enjoy
The sweet things in life - full of gaping grief
For you were brief.
So tomorrow to have a happy day,
Relax and play.
Copyright © 2009 Leslie Alexis
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem