Amidst the chirrups of men, I stand,
Thoroughly rooted in the land,
Seeing them all, from the azure sky
Through the years that have passed by.
It’s always the same old show,
For my entwined cousin and me,
Men scurrying in man – flow,
Bereft a waiting watch to see.
Men ought to slow down, sometimes,
Relish the trifling moments,
And ages and ages hence,
that would make all the difference.