Thursday, July 31, 2008

Three Hundreds and Sixty Four a Quarter

Why a week starts with sunday or monday?
Why not tuesday, wednesday, thursday, friday, or even saturday?
Why is grass green?
not blue, pink, white, or even black?
This is a poem of friendship.
Warmth of love.
love of care.
care of feelings.
Baby starts to stand.
Toddler starts to walk.
Child starts to run.
Teenager starts to study.
Man starts to work.
Elderly starts to compile their thoughts.
This is will be just once, ever.
We might never meet again.
Lover to friends,
is one to many.
Like a bridge,
you might have crossed
successfully.
However--
we-- us--
all of us here--
stand on the other side,
joining to your side using another bridge.
Still the same island tho',
we still might meet--
might be difference from the last time.
We never know.
We just need to wait the clock to talk
or wait the grass to hiss out.
But the sky will always be the witness
and never die.

2 comments:

gciw said...

hi Kohar, puisi lu btl2 bgs loh... =D

Kohar said...

@gciw:
thanks!