The possibility that this is all there is to life confounds me!
If I could do a Neruda,
You would have smelt of summer roses
And Autumn pine.
There would have been sheer love
Of the kind that causes our hearts to ache
And loneliness bordering the divine.
You would have had so many secrets
Welling up as in a girly giggle
And so few friends who would hear them all.I am no Neruda
I can't paint you a Summer breeze
Amidst this long winter chill.
You would have smelt of summer roses
And Autumn pine.
There would have been sheer love
Of the kind that causes our hearts to ache
And loneliness bordering the divine.
You would have had so many secrets
Welling up as in a girly giggle
And so few friends who would hear them all.I am no Neruda
I can't paint you a Summer breeze
Amidst this long winter chill.
Rajesh, Everything depends on what you mean by this...
ReplyDeleteMy 'this' can be quite busy, filled with things I have to do in the form of chores for the family, the house, church, and others. Sometimes I wonder if what I do makes a difference - perhaps it dosen't except to my family. But if there were not a lot of other people like me doing what they can to help, then the act of omission would be noticable.
ReplyDeleteI love to be out doors, and when I feel a little disheartened I take a breath of fresh air and somehow I smile.