DAY-DREAM by George Kiwanuka
The ghosts of those lost dead children call out to me…
every now and then
These ghost children desire to play
Their lively playful chuckles frozen in time…
Oblivious of today’s concerns
Trapped in the past joys of their days
They know and care not that in these cloudy murky days,
Endless toil is the natural accompaniment to breath
And that a minute lost in the sunny embrace of nostalgia
is a whole handful of life-giving peanuts lost!
Comments
Post a Comment