Water World (a poem)
Water World
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December in England,
it rains quite alot,
and sometimes it rains for a week.
March in Namibia,
there’s hardly a drop,
while it’s pouring across Mozambique.
I heard that in Cuba,
in order to scuba,
they don’t need the rain,
not at all.
I know in Vermont,
they do what they want,
it rains in the spring and the fall.
Now all of these places,
you see in the faces,
a wondering, questioning look.
When they seek to discover,
and read what will hover,
in the sky like a magical book.
They squint and predict what will happen tomorrow,
some days will bring joy,
some days will have sorrow.
Maybe they’re blessed,
but maybe they’re cursed.
To hope for the best,
and prepare for the worst.
I am glad that something brings me to see this: It's powerful to me. It helps me recall myself from my frustration about the conflicts in my beloved land, Thailand, the so called smiling land but the smiles seem to dry out. This poem is like a new rain to me. Yes, we cannot always predict what is coming. Nevertheless, almost all over the world, there are more than one season. It is cold now, so that it will be warm soon or one day. Even if it' s not, it is we as human being to learn to live with. We all are here on this world temporary . Soon we will be gone. Even the earth, the world , who can say that it will be here forever. Happy or sad is in the mind, how we see the world: as it is or as we expect it to be.
ReplyDeleteSo true! Have hope, the weather will always change :)
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