I am a poor artist; hungry as I am
My poetry has no meat, just bones
My experience limited, confined by a gilded cage
No road trips across desert sands or through rainforests with friends
I am Atlas, bearing the burden of beloved parents
Yet I will not abandon my parents for love
I am their fountain of youth
But in truth my tender May flowers have begun to wither
Grandfather clocks continue to tick
No Taj Mahal, no Pyramid of Giza, no Great Wall of China
Yet I will not abandon my parents for love
I only wish for a garden of my own
A balcony for love’s kisses
A cave to explore my desires
Yet I will not abandon my parents for love.
No comments:
Post a Comment