To my teacher and good friend,

I no longer stand on future’s hill
And wait for coming glory.
Nor hold on to roses of my past
And wish for a different story.
I’ve grown tired of my restless mind
That flood my heart with worry.
And turns the blessed moments
Into haunting purgatory

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: