Living

Living in this world,
As in the garden does the wood.
Living with the joy of child,
As a pod without seed.

Sharing life’s ups and downs,
With paper and pen.
Sharing another’s toils,
Through a book now and then.

Passing time in many ways,
As water from the deserted well.
Looking forward to each new day,
As a prisoner in his cell.

So many true friends,
As a barg adrift at sea.
A father, lover, husband and friend,
What I wouldn’t give to be.