I'm working on a new poem...

Not much private time for writing.. cannot write one thing with activity going on. Need quiet. *

This is unfinished.... don't know when I'll finish it.. can't find the right words..

She smiles a smile
a surface smile?
not really from the heart
but look into the smilers eyes
try seeing for a start
the emptiness
and wailing grief
that's really hiding there
the pain of loss
a heavy cross
that's hers alone to bear.
the feelings sad
a wan facade
she doesn't want to share.

Time they say..
Oh what a farce
all time forevermore
cannot undo
the thoughts of you
as if they sliced and tore
her heart to bits
and there it sits
all crumpled on the floor

Oh what to do
sad there is naught
and even if there was
she wouldn't want to stop
the pain... she couldn't stop
the pain insane

Sometimes....

* I've decided to name this poem Unfinished Mourning and leave it just like it is.....

Alice...On Cookies

Another day
and I find
freshest memories of mine
are thoughts of her, still in my mind
long after words she spoke to me
and quiet is
where sound should be.
Caramel skin, the color brown
upon her face ne’er was a frown.
Wrinkles were not hers to wear
silver brightened whitest hair.
Tall and slender, very straight,
safari colors coordinate
with coral rings
turquoise things.
And quietly with words she’d paint
pictures, while her voice grew faint.
Softly she would rationalize
while mischief shown
in warm brown eyes.
"Eating cookies is good for you
you need some sugar,
Yes you do.
You should never deny
yourself a cookie
I’ll tell you why
and I know it sounds so dumb
but very soon you will
succumb
to temptation as it brings
thoughts of eating other things
and those things it often seems
are nasty puddings and icy creams
full of awful ingredients
that’s why cookies are heaven sent.
So eat the cookie, it’s good for you.
The only thing better
is maybe two."
©Vrd.2/3/99

Paper Beads

While emptying out the cardboard box
of contents lying there
she spied an object just beneath
a bottle she thought rare
Removing treasures one by one
with memories to share
she thought about her yesterdays
and living without a care
When children slammed the entry doors
and stomped from room to room
where crumbs were dropped in corners
and the TV seemed to boom
Where silence seemed to never be
and quietness was rare
and yet those days were happiness
which nothing can compare
But time like lightning seems to zip
away without a warning
and all too soon the emptying
of boxes and the planning
take precedence o’er other thoughts
until which time one sees
an object which sparks memories
a string of paper beads
Past and present seem to merge
as tears began to flow
Why does time do heartless things
Where did my lifetime go..
We can’t go back to other times
of gifts for Mother’s day
Where innocent children rolled with care
the beads she got that day.
Diamonds would not touch her heart
like simple paper beads
and as she tossed the empty box
she clung to memories.

©vrd 8/31/05

It's A Box

Any city, in the nation
proudly shows the world it’s wealth,
but look beyond the lighted fountains
in the shadows by themselves,
You will see lopsided boxes
weakened by the falling rain
They are ugly and appalling
where in many nights have lain
Those whose lives have all been shattered
and whose world’s become askew
And we scowl with vain revulsion,
Shame on me, shame on you.
This is not a nice safe haven
protected, keeping one secure.
It’s a box. ..used for a shelter
but the figure lying there..
Feels the cold sharp pangs of hunger
along with failure and of shame
but he’s a man, his mother bore him
He’s a man .. He has a name.
Now the question is inside us
What to do? What to do?
You can turn, try not to see him,
but what if he, were me or you?

©Vrd.9/9/99


.
.
.

.
.

Barefoot

She danced in moonlights shadow
barefoot grace upon the clouds,
her feet caressed by softest cotton white.
Her music was from raindrops
a’pattering on the stars
blowing kisses with their twinklings of light.
And when the angels saw her
they knew it was their daughter
who was searching for her way one rainy night.
They kissed her eyes with dewdrops
sprinkled moondust while they sang,
"go back because the timing isn’t right."
And so she bowed to angels
danced away across the clouds,
while they watched until she wasn’t in their sight.
She awakened in the morning
to a room so strange and stark
and she saw her parents standing there in fright.
They had watched her with a worry
as she seemed so far away,
their thinking was she’d taken final flight.
Teardrops fell down on their faces
as relief was clearly shown
and the mood inside that room reversed to bright.
"I was dreaming I was barefoot
dancing round with lovely angels
on the streets of heaven lined in cotton white,
but they wouldn’t let me stay there
as the time was yet to be
but I loved it dancing barefoot in the night."

©vrd.5/98

..

.

.

Sometimes we can be fooled...

.

April one... for all fools day
but what say you
this I say

Times have not changed
by much
except the planes fly faster
thus
they bomb with such an awful
crash
and leave behind smoldering
trash
and bodies who cry in pain
yet he still lives the fool saddam
who thinks we may not know his ways
his schemes, deception and some say
that we should leave
not help the ones whose lives
have all become undone
by evil men who cruelly rape
kill and maim and use Sarin
to rid the pests who cry freedom
like you and I enjoy each day
without a thought we demonstrate
But woe be to the self thought God
who smirks behind a fake facade
with human shields he barricades
his littleness, his coward-self
with forked tongue and vile bi-face
he sends the brainwashed in his place
to defend his farce unholy plan
but let me say to this low man
It’s over now, your reign is done
It’s not a joke, freedom has won.*


*
Written right after the start of the Iraq war while I still believed in President Bush, I have since learned he gave the American people false
information... What a shame. J

A Red Box...

.
She searched through the cupboards again
she might have missed something.
But she hadn’t.

Alone on the shelf
sat a half empty jar
of peanut butter.

And at the table
sat five children.

She searched through her purse.
Four pennies.
She ran her hand down
between the cushions on the sofa.
What’s this?
A Nickel? Yes, her heart leapt.
Hope surged where none had been.
"God don’t let me down."
Nine cents. What can you buy
with nine cents?
She continued the search,
in the medicine chest.
her housecoat pocket
the toy box.
And then in the window sill
behind the bed
she spotted something
gleaming in the sun.
Three pennies.
Three pennies.
Now she had twelve cents
wrapped in a handkerchief
clutched in her hand
she walked to the store.

Twelve cents.
"What can I get for twelve cents?
Bread? No that’s thirty-one cents.
Muffin mix? Sometimes it’s on sale
five for a dollar.
No. That would be twenty cents."
Searching..

there on the shelf
sat a single box of crackers.
Crackers?
She checked the price.
Twelve cents.

Sometimes
a feast
comes in a red box.

©Vrd9/6/99

What's yer flavor?

.
My favorite flavor
is easy to see
It’s whichever is there
in front of me
Like cheese and sauce
oregano
to make a pizza
I love it so
Then there’s a luscious
walnutty dream
called Rocky Road
Chocolate Ice Cream.
One pie stands out
from all the rest
with coconut and cream
by far the best
Turkey and dressing
thick savory stew
scrambled eggs and bacon
orange marmalade too
spread onto pancakes
dripping with butter.
Bananas and cashews
make my heart flutter.
Each has a flavor
different, unique
I should pass them by
but I’m terribly weak.
So my favorite flavor
it’s easy to see
is whichever is there
in front of me.

Vrd10/26/01



.

Free Falling

I will not sleep.
No more, no more
I close my eyes
and as before,
I’m walking on
the highest ledge
and as I look
beyond the edge
there’s naught to see.
It’s too far down.
I reach the corner,
step around.
There is no railing,
nothing there.
I slip, free falling
through the air.
Past never ending
dreams I go.
I sail the darkness,
no below.
I wake with promise
as before.
I will not sleep.
No more. No more.

©Vrd5/19/99

How Long is a Lifetime?

.

I don’t think I want to do this anymore.

I want to move away where necks are not so red, heads are not buried in sand, where gossip is against the law and the punishment for lying is wearing a long nose in public.

Who cares the gender of the earing wearer?

I feel like screaming, "Just let it go, people. Just let it go. Take your time and extra energy and build a house or something. Go help out at a homeless shelter, an orphanage, a children’s hospital. How will it help the world if you point fingers, teach maliciousness or condone absurdities? What is your contribution to society anyway? Is it your goal to cause discontent? Who the hell are you anyway to judge another human being? Repeat after me, "There but for the Grace of God go I. Where is your compassion, your understanding, your love?"

I have to get away.

I need to be where people care and do not judge. Where the air is clear and babies aren’t crying. Where hunger is just a word in the dictionary and nobody hits anyone. Where a child is the result of love and not an unwanted nuisance who pays for his parents unwillingness to use protection. I’ve never figured out why a child is beaten for the sins of their fathers. Sad, very sad. Why so much fighting? Why is there a need for someone to inflict pain on another using either words or hands. Pain is pain and sometimes on the inside pain is more intense, more devastating, more damaging and sometimes that pain lasts a lifetime.

How long is a lifetime?

I want to move where I can climb a mountain or smell the ocean, see the wild flowers, lie in the shade and listen to the birds sing as the breeze rustles through the trees and cotton clouds form pictures in my mind.

And nobody hates.

© vrd8/15/2001


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Cats and a Brother... true story, almost

.

When I was but a child
(Oh please don’t hate me)
I loved all the little kittens
and the kittens all loved me.

We lived way out in the country
where the alfalfa was always green
with a ditch for irrigating
Do you know what I mean?

My brother had always told me
a kitten could surely swim
but he told me many stories
so why should I believe him?

Besides they were little kitties
all fluffy and so cute
too little for any swimming
they still fit inside my boot.

He said, "Oh don’t be chicken
Yes they really can swim""
But I was a little skeptical
and besides, I didn’t trust him.

He taunted and he pestered me
and he needled me that so
I decided just to do it
I really did have to know

But I was just a softy.
I knew I couldn’t do that
So instead of choosing a kitten
I’d try the mother cat.

She was quite a bit bigger
and we’d be right there too.
So if she started to drown
we would know what to do.

So I gathered up all the kittes
and sat them down in a row
on the ditch bank beside the water
"Now come on, Let's start this show."

I saw my brother climbing
up the old walnut tree
Then he sat there just sneering
and looking down at me.

I went then and started searching
for the lazy old mother cat
I knew she’d be somewhere sleeping
she was getting much too fat

I picked her up, oh so gently
and I walked straight to the ditch
and saying "Oh kitty I love you."
I gave that Mom cat a pitch.

She lit right down in the water
She howled and screeched, I looked grim
but my brother was right, I admit it
She really, really could swim...

1/17/99vrd


,

An Error?

In a picture perfect world,
a sapphire sparkled stream
slips through grassy pastures
and quenches thirst it seems.
The very greenest meadows
snuggle at mountains feet,
They touch with vegetation
and tallest pines that meet
the bluest sky of summer
while reaching toward the sun,
and blazing golden sunsets
show an evening just begun.
Sky scrapers in the distance
tall shadows waiting there,
that give a false illusion
of peace that’s ours to share.
The fools that had the power
decided to call the hand,
pretending to be Jesus,
they felt like mighty men.
A bluff,,, explodes in "error?"
An instant flash of pain.
The picture perfect world
would never be again.
Destroyed with nuclear sadness
and seared in white hot flame,
Paint peeled from the picture
and curled up the frame.
Sky scrapers in the distance
blackened by the heat
stand, but now in mourning,
charred flesh lay at their feet.

Mountains singed to baldness
rivers parched and dry,
A meadow stripped of grasses
a glazing orange sky.
A white hot bunch of nothing,
Gone,.... as never been,
An immense and ranking graveyard
An "error" of the men.

©vrd3/2/98

.

The Melody

The beat to which
I vaguely dance
is strange and slightly mad

A different tune
was gone too soon
but yes oh yes I had

A waltz in time
a lovely rhyme
a beat that was sublime

This solo dance
with empty arms
is not the chosen path

and yet I twirl
inside myself
no reason, rhyme or wrath.

I hear the beat
of yesterdays
when time was young and kind

And still I waltz
in days long passed
The melody in my mind

© vrd 4/30/05


.

The American Dream

On the sidewalks of the city
and some back alleyways
There’s another population
with vagrant empty days
And just outside the city
underneath a busy bridge
there are other people dwelling
and some of them are kids.
Their shelters are of cardboard
under which they sleep
where rats are freely roaming
and hungry roaches creep.
Where Mothers lie awake and cry
for turns their lives have taken
and overwhelmed by circumstance
they feel alone, forsaken.
For some from depths they cannot rise
and though their looks are sullen
If you look inside their eyes
you’ll see a heart that’s broken.
Where to go, which way to turn?
They’ve lost all self esteem
Is this the life they’re meant to live
Is this the American Dream?

©Vrd 7/26/2001

.

March is on it's way....

Rainbows and Leprechauns

Far beyond the clouds and thunder,
after rains have washed it clean
there’s a rainbow showing pathways
through the glens and meadows green

Carpeted with lovely shamrocks
near the trickling of a stream
at the entrance to the forest
lively men all dressed in green

dance the jig with wives and chilren
looking neither here nor yon
keep your eye a’trained upon them
if you blink they will be gone.

Leprechauns of Irish glory
magic wonder for us to see
there is gold a’neath the rainbow
waiting there for you and me.

Have you ever reached that rainbow?
No, you haven’t , Nor have I.
But I will one day I promise,
‘less I forget and blink my eye.

©vrd3/15/2000

Cinquain

total of 22 sylables... 2....4......6.....8......2 respectively..


Life is
a series of
storms, with once in awhile
lulls, to be used for much needed
resting.






.

The Stamp

This tragic stamp
meant to educate
but like volcanos
some mouths spew hate

Holier than thou
who is to say
the reasons, the whys
anyway

There is no choice
when one is born
so why point a finger
with hatred
with scorn?

Placing blame?
Then let me ask you
If it were your daughter
what would you do?

Would you turn your back
on your only son
condemn him to hell?
Laugh while he is shunned?

Talk can be easy
self righteousness too
but there’s only one judge
and it’s not me and not you.

©Vrd3-31-2001

I Only know it was for the most part... good

Years run together
like wet colored tissue
blurring into each other
blending a life
making each step
seem as one
Increments of days
no longer clear
just bits and pieces
of events remain
as memories
No defining beginning
no definite ending
but both assured
sometime
We summarize
time
by particular happenings
"That was the year Sue graduated"
"It must have been Springtime
because
I remember the daisies."
Memories
of many New Years
remain blurred in my mind
a password to time
past
I know not the dates
I only know it was
for the most part
good.
©vrd10/17/2004(Jenny)

Sometimes I Seem Silly

Somebody sat in my soup
somebody sat in my stew
A sick sad story
a stupid song
and very soon I shall sue.

Sorry said Sally to Susan
Sorry said Sammy to Sue
We slipped somehow
and slid on the sow
into your soup and stew...

More dieting thoughts....

I’ll Take the Cake

I think that you
shall never see
a lass more lovelier
than me
with big brown eyes
long lashes too
and dimples hiding
wouldn’t you
like to know
just where they’re at
would you believe
they’re where I sit
and skin so fine
luxurious hair
cascading down
to nearly there
I’m thin ( I wish)
and shapely too
with whitest teeth
held in with glue
I wear perfume
called number five
And men drop dead
or come alive
when they see me
walk in the room
a light goes on
no dim no gloom
my secret is
and you should
try it
enjoy your life
I never diet
or pass good food
for slimness sake
you have the salad
I’ll take the cake

vrd©5/11/2002

They're Playing my Song...

Diet time... sung to "Crying Time"

Oh it’s diet time again
I’m getting fatter
I can see it in the form
of midriff bulge.
I can tell by the way
my pants are tighter
that it won’t be long
before it’s diet time.
Oh they say that dieting
makes the heart grow stronger
and I guess it’s happened
many times before
But why with me
does everything take longer
I’m so fat I can’t get
through the kitchen door.
Oh it’s diet time again
I’m getting fatter
I can by the scales going high
and I know by the jeering and the laughter
that it won’t be long before
it’s diet time.

The Pelican and the Little Bird

I’m a big bird
much bigger than you
and this is my rock
so what are you doing
invading my space
you’re not like me
you’re another race
probably lower and lesser than I
so I’m just wondering why
you think I might
share my place
the world of my making, my very own space
with a pauper who’s homeless
broke and without
employment or even a family or spouse
what kind of a bird are you anyway
you’re not even friendly
so what’s that you say?
You want to live here
and learn my way?
To share in the good life
The American Way?
OK... I’m a good guy
as Americans are
We’ll take you and love you
and let you go far
but one thing you mustn’t
ever do
is betray your new rock
my brother if you do
The wrath of the free world
will rain upon you
we’ve no room for traitors
or those who would be
rulers of our homeland
the land of the free...

© vrd2/28/2002

Sandpiper

Miles and miles stretched beyond
as we walked hand in hand
never thinking that forever
could ever have an end.
We planned for life
and how we loved
and loved and loved again
just you and I
and with the rise
of tides and passions grand
we walked along
and watched the shores
and pipers in the sand
The thief of life
and loneliness has laid on me its hand
changing patterns, changing time
to a life unplanned
I walk and watch, listening too,
as sights and sounds demand
calling me to sea
to see
the pipers in the sand..

©vrd2/27/2000

I Wrote this after seeing the movie... Joan of Arc

Remembering Joan

Beating drums
surrounding me
circling, encircling
Torturing me.
I’m not the one
they think I am
but dying here
inside the flame
while yellow orange
consumes my flesh
my soul is free
outside my self
with wanton lust
and scorching flame
they burn my shell
but not my name.
Some will rise
and shout my name
not hypnotized
by dancing flame..
As the embers
cool, subside
Satan laughs
while others cry.
And though I am
a mound of dust
My ashes scream
In God I trust....

© vrd5/28/2000

A different sort of poem...

Between The Hours of Dusk and Dawn

Those hours between dusk and dawn
are when the world is rewound
The shelves are stocked, the papers come
and by the morning garbage is gone.
So many stories and dreams abound,
and for some true love is found,
between the hours of dusk and dawn.
But there exists in the world of one
a lifetime that has gone beyond
possible to be rewound
where nightmares instead of dreams rebound.
The hope for peace is only found
in needles used by his own hand
and arm that has a rubber band
to bring the vein up to the fore
and give him peace just once more.
But when the promise of dreams are blown
with falsehoods by a druglord sown
the nightmare wins a mind unsound.
He thinks escape and looks around
He jumps and falls far, far down
and crashes on the waiting ground.
Then instantly his world’s rewound
as angels lift with trumpets sound
and take him to a higher ground
where he is dressed in whitest gown
and olive branches braided round
his head to make forgiveness’ crown.
He walks on gardens path that’s sown
with thornless roses which have grown.
The greenest grass so freshly mown
placed on a chair becomes a throne.
To the wind his wounds are thrown
The nightmares of the past have gone.
And music is the foremost song
where peace at last, for him was found
between the hours of dusk and dawn.

©vrd.9/7/98

Todays pick...

Conversation Over Coffee

Imagine a life
crashing
against a wall.
Dreams fall
smashing
scattering
into bits
of nothing.

Coffee?

The magic elixir
the fixer
of all

Your chair
is
empty.

The conversation is over.

©Vrd6/6/99 (Jenny)

Ok...check this one..

That damn bowl of fruit

It sits there day in
and day out
seemingly with clout
what’s it all about
that damn bowl of fruit
Why do we fill it again
and again
seems such a sin
to watch it rot
it’s not like
anyone eats it
Well some think the
bananas
are good
the rest is pig food
or at the most
it’s compost
for the garden
Is it a symbol of status
or what
does it stand for
that damn bowl of fruit
it lays there
attracting nothing
but
fruit flies
while answers to my whys
go silent
that damn bowl of fruit.
I’m tired and changing
I’m now rearranging
my life and my house
at the same time
Stuff has to go
you know
and the first to the trash bin
with no guilt and no sin
no bells or fanfare
one toss and it’s there
the ultimate
damn bowl of fruit.

©vrd 5/10/2004

Try this....

Nuthin’ but a Stupid Tree

A power saw rips through the tree
I hear it cry, I feel its plea.
Glazed eyes gleam with awestruck glee
while years come tumbling to its knees.
Inside my mind and heart I seethe
why is there no one here to grieve?
With nonchalance they walk away
and as they do I hear them say;
"Nuthin but a stupid tree
never did no good for me
It would have fallen anyway
when it died_someday."

©Vrd10/20/99

But For The Grace

There But For The Grace

Instead of me, another waits
with joy no longer on her face.
The dreams she had for naught, or gone
with time have been replaced
by apathy
and loneliness
And there but for the grace
go I along another path
Oh God my upward gaze
gives thanks to thee, though it is late
I could be sitting in her place
looking toward infinity
She’s run a losing race
while I in tranquil sunlight bask
my solo world replace
with springtime hopes, renewals born
I love this time, this place
but questions rise, how does he choose
Why do some win and others lose?

© vrd11/13/2001

One More Nursery Rhyme...sorry.

Jack Horner?

Little Jack Horner
sat in a corner
eating his Christmas pie,
He just wasn’t happy
in fact he felt crappy
But wait, I’ll tell you why.
His darling wife Mary
had become quite contrary
when her flowers wilted and died.
He said, "Let me please you."
She answered, "Oh geez you
look stupid with your thumb in a pie."
"But wait, I’m still handsome
I’m virile and then some"
He said with a gleam in his eye.
She keeled over laughing,
for air she was grasping
He thought she surely would die.
She said to Jack Horner
who sulked in the corner,
"It’s my fault, I should have been wiser.
Your B.S. spread thick,
would have done the trick
for my flowers as fertilizer.

©Vrd7/27/99

Let's try a different type... ok?

Drift Wood

Another tomorrow
much like today.
Another world
Blown away
with a word!
Bombing my mind.
Invading my peace.
Murdering me
and leaving me
DEAD
like driftwood
There!
dry....................and dead in the sand.

I am

Motionless!

Emotionless!!

Vrd.. copyrighted long ago.

If you Liked Jack Sprat.....

Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater

Peter peter pumpkin eater
had a wife and thought he’d beat her
tried to keep her in a shell
she didn’t like it very well.

Peter peter pumpkin eater
had a wife and couldn’t keep her
he would have kept her very well
except she came out of her shell.

©Vrd7/26/99

-------------------------------
Or how about...

Little Boy Blue

Little Boy Blue
go blow your nose
I think you’re allergic
to that wild girl Rose.

Where is that boy
who has a drippy nose?
He’s out behind the hay stack
with that wild girl named Rose

What are they doing
out behind the hay?
Frolicking in summer
that’s all I’m going to say.

©Vrd7/26/99

A Childhood Fantasy?

Of course I had them
doesn’t everybody ?
I mean, I knew who I was going to be.
I would be a movie star.
There was no doubt.
I always practiced my Esther Williams act
there
on the front lawn.
I remember swimming around
in the Kentucky blue grass
lifting my marvelous leg out of the water
listening to the thunderous roar of the audience.
While down deep in the blades of grass
I watched wonderful crawly things
like lady bugs
trying to find their way home
before all their children burned.
And sometimes when I was really lucky,
I saw ants
carry a dead bug to a hole in the ground.
I knew
they were storing food
for winter.
When I tired
of watching ants build cities and stuff,
I would curtsy to my adoring fans
and go visit a friend
who had a garage,
where we held our shows
for captive audiences.
We had our wardrobes
of sequined gowns, diamond pendants
and mink stoles
stored in brown
cardboard luggage.
We were wonderful.
Dancing and singing
while grateful crowds begged for more.
We always did several encores,
knowing
they were starved for fine entertainment
and a taste of the good life.
It was excruciating work.
But we felt
that we really should share
our beauty with the world.
And after hours
of grueling performances
we bowed
exhausted, but content,
knowing that we had brought great joy
to the masses.

©vrd.6/98

Macho Hound


Would you like to go to town
wearing a long and sequined gown?
Would you dance and twirl around
with an ugly drunken clown?
Would you take your dog to the pound
if you caught him running round
and acting like a macho hound
with all the bitches in the town?

Unicorns... write to a picture

I Will Write Of Unicorns

I will write of unicorns
rainbows and waterfalls
pink flamingos
misting waters
and fog between the lush green trees.
I see a solitary flower.
I wonder if it is lonely?
But amidst this beauty.......
how could there be loneliness?
©vrd1998

Jack Sprat
had a wife who was fat
he laughed
and that was so mean.
She went on a diet
and then he was quiet.
She was the prettiest girl he had seen.
And though she looked dearer
would not let Jack near her,
She just let him watch as she preened.
She pranced and she strutted
and poor Jack he suffered
as she wiggled in her tight jeans..
But she didn’t care
if she got in his hair
She was beautiful and she was lean
The tables have turned
Jack’s pain he has earned
And Jack’s wife ran off with a king.
©Vrd.7/29/99.

Are We There Yet?

Words attributed to children
but impatience may be the rule
rather than the exception.
At times
in our rush to reach a goal
we take a shortcut
and as a result
lose our way.
Or rocks may be strewn
in the road
making the path
impassable.
In our haste,
instead
of removing the roadblocks,
we take a detour
and forget
where we wanted to go.
Sometimes
we are very late
starting our journey.
How can a destination
be reached
in a lifetime
if a life
didn’t begin on time?
Are we there yet?
Not yet.
Not yet.

©Vrd3/2/99