Perspective

A great bicycle I ride,
A bicycle with rear view mirrors.
I have a look at the path trodden upon.
I find it to be smooth.

No bumps. No injuries.
The ride has been smooth,
As the road has been smooth.

That's what I presume.
The road is always smooth.

I behold a sprawling meadow on my right,
A beautifully flowing brook on my left.
My co-riders see a quagmire on one side, and
A dark woods on the other.

Ahead of me are many more beautiful meadows.
My friends see a treacherous landscape.
I continue riding, and
Admiring the beauty around me.
Some people certainly can't see the way I see.

Poetry and My Life

With increased wisdom my life I resume.
I've learnt to confirm and never to assume.
My mind is right in saying my heart is wrong.
I only feel happy seeing it become strong.

So soft has my little heart been,
Making me fall in love with someone I've never seen.
Was I stupid or foolish in doing so?
I beg to differ, the answer is "no".

The reason for my love for art,
Is that I forget my mind and think with the heart.
Even in sorrow I do see gaiety.
That's what makes poetry my cup of tea.