Sunday 27 April 2014

Burning candles


As the wick of thin block of wax is lit,
my heart makes a wish
to be able to refit
in this perfect world

With every melting drops of wax
falling and vaporizing in the thin air,
I forget the pain of the past
welcoming the bright future



The burning candles mark
another end of the year
and a start of new beginning

With every second nearing,
the candle has come to its death
while I rejoice the day of my birth

Farmer’s pride

The farmer stares, At open skies, Hopelessly searching, For fluffy thick clouds. To his dismay, The sky is blue, The sun is out, Shining sha...