Life is like a crowd of sorrows

and a handful of happiness,

The garden of grief and the garden of glee

are watered by the same Gardener,

The vagaries of life even at odd hours,

The binaries of odd and even;

So –

I begin to smell as I breathe,

I begin to feel as I touch,

I begin to care as I caress,

I begin to ponder as I think;

Then –

I begin to decay as I die;

© Sabah

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