Entire life pans out in front of me
A huge cotton napkin
Sewn and put together by miseries —
Bits and scraps of it lie huddled together,
Sewn carefully, they stick together.
Many dreams are jotted down
In the yellowed pages of a dusty notebook.
As the notebook falls, the dust from it
Makes me cough, cough, cough.
Ah, if only dreams could speak.
Dreams now have no touch of reality.
The napkin stays abandoned.
See how the stitches are lost to you –
You who could never read
The many words this napkin hid.