Here And There, But Nowhere

I find myself in my poems Like someone talks to others, but in vain, I go to that rock of suicide To watch the pretty sea, I remember the Patos Orchard's childhood memories, but I don't sea my friends' images anymore, My old school deserves to be mentioned In a pretty poem, but I dedicate myself to write about other issues, I don't walk in the American Street anymore Simply because I am faraway, The grains of sands are still there In the desert play together, I change from one place to another Just to see my luck, but always in vain, I never give up, but I have to admit my failure in certain aspects of life, I love all those pretty flowers and All those roses of that garden, I never tell my secrets to those whom I don't trust too much, I like to work, but Too many hours toil me, I don't know anything about my loved ones Simply because things make busy here and there, The most beautiful thing is to write A pretty poem about life's pretty image anytime... I'm still alive, but My thoughts are tired... I'm still looking forward because It's not easy for me to give up... ______________________________________________________________________