Poem Hunter
A Bitter Pill Implies Where I Belong
(5-28-42 / Washington state USA)

A Bitter Pill Implies Where I Belong

I signed the back of a lottery ticket, filled the name and address clearly.
The night is sleeping but still I am awake in a Gas station to fulfill the boisterous vehicles.
I hear a whisper in my decaying wallet.
'Hey! Dear this is not the winning ticket exactly but a day would be appeared and bring you the lucky chance soon.' The lottery muttered.
After a lazy yawn I speak to myself;
'Nowadays the papers talk much while the poor people shut their mouths as nothing to put in for digest.'

* To Gheorghe Zamfir!
Your divine magical pan flute's notes impress me how to grab the fleeing life?

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