Wandering Monk Poem by Ajiive Jay
Wandering Monk
We travel all over,
In trains, buses and strolling,
Stations pass by
Faces changing colors
From love to hate,
From pale and glee,
Busy mouths
Shut and search words
In bundled woods!
My little daughter
In pink sandals,
Sleeps like angel
Pressing my throbbing chest,
Sobbing for her mom?
Does she know
People call me a ‘single parent'?
Friday, April 6, 2012
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5/1/2024 6:41:43 PM # 1.0.0.1119
