Ceiling
I stare at a light blue ceiling.
It’s been there since my life’s beginning.
The painted clouds are silent and shy,
make me imagine the peaceful sky,
the peaceful sky as told by a sage,
whose wise words never fade or age.
He warns me not to look out the window,
cause the real sky
brings torrent of rain and blizzard of snow.
I heed his warning,
but my ears hear raining,
drop by drop,
a melody penetrates the ceiling.
I heed his warning,
but my heart keeps yearning,
day by day,
to stare at the sky, not the ceiling.
But my ears hear raining,
tap by tap,
a rhythm vibrates the ceiling.
But my heart keeps yearning,
night by night,
to embrace the sky, not the ceiling.