The Common Touch

I look around this swell of sea,
And find many same as me,
But I feel no pain, at our common touch,
Only pride that we don’t, differ much,
And remain aloft and alive of will,
All masters of some meagre skill,
Much unlike those precious few,
Who sell themselves to buy something new,
And yet remain same as old,
With that begging bowl, made of gold.

2 thoughts on “The Common Touch”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s