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Poem

One day,
Sir told me that,
To farm,let it harvest,
To be happy, let it cry first,
To succeed, let it in pain of fist,
To never give up, just fall to the deepest,
But Sir,
Even the wind will stop blowing,
Even the sun will crawl back inside,
Even the rain will never stop pouring,
Even the cricket will stop bickering,
Then Sir,
I never realize that all the red roses will turn black,
I never thought that the time will be gone,
I never mind that a book could be torn,
Oh Sir,
For all those arguments,
For all those nonsense act,
For never be kind when your breathing can still be heard,
For all those time that your jokes was your good intention,
Dear Sir,
Those tears cannot bring you back alive,
This words cannot reach your reading lively,
But I hope that prayers will held you there gracefully,
In the name of our God,
Let my Sir rest in peace,
Because this is my deepest condolences,
For the last respect that I could never come.

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