Roots shallow, floating
thousands adrift upon the ocean wide.
At the mercy of the current,
Like paper boats.
They're like you and me,
but they've got no land, no nation.
No place to call their own.
So they struggle,
even when the odds are stacked sky high.
And, hold onto hope.
Hope like the width of a hair.
Till their breaths become air.
YOU ARE READING
Strands of Time
PoetryA collection of feelings, hurts, experiences and lessons learnt, felt and lived. A road woven in time for 9 years and continuing. Information for Readers: You'll notice in the titles, the poems run from "Class 7 to Class 15", I started writing from...
