13
Sep

Children at play

As a young man, sat he on a grassy field a day
Sat and watched, all the children at play
All the while he watched, never one word he chose to say
Family that found him, so late in life
The family one had chose to be his wife
He chose the life of discord to calculate a subtle being
All the while he watched, never had eyes of seeing
The blood, thinned by water, burned by heat, blood like a river to dry
Confused, on why he wrote, the words that he had to say
The children grew up, in front of his eyes,
All the while he watched, from a distance, to this day
He had so much love, oddity in how it was to be shown
Not one counter, that he could have let himself to be known
Criticizes himself, in the mirror that lies to him daily
Yet he looks, till a fault is found
Yet he cries, from alone as the sound
Now old and bitter, tasteless to the world that gave him his birth
All the while he watched, as the children looked to him and frowned
As a young man, sat he on a grassy field a day
Sat and watched, all his children at play
All the while he watched, love was his only thing to say.

© Copyright Mani Amar

About Me
In self-reflection; I can honestly say all that is good in my life has been a direct result of my artistic expression. Be it through writing poetry, prose, or philosophy, through painting or photography, or through filmmaking, art saved my life and it can save yours.
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