Sir Antalov

Dear;

In good health
I write to you my child_
May your days be long,
And may this bless you with a smile,
If a thousand words expresses my affection
receive mine from a million mile

I know the days are forthcoming,      
when the sanctity of life would fail
when the intent of “blue” skies would change
and me, the departed bride would be unveiled_
but be comforted, for I’m contented my child,   
the races has been ran and the finale has been played

Patience, knows me by my name
As the inevitable is highly anticipated_
But as rare as the sea lay tame
I labour a smile and yearn for life
As the peace becomes dwarfed by the rain

The cries of the rain dancers would soften the din
as their toddler’s feet splash in pools
out bursting in their ruckus of careless laughter_
praising the unknown, forsaking every rules
and with their constant plea, there it was…
a spring of desire for me to be renewed

Oh, the endless stream of sorrow rain
their loud silence would grew still
And their joyous laughter would fade_
disrupting the reflection of my pretense
But to be expected again,
Only with the falling of the rain…

So I write this to you my child,
the conflicts between the days gone by
and those to come has change_
the irony to live that comes with the rain,
has consoled me to die,
To preserve my course through life’s lane…

From
Sir Antalov