The significance I have for those 40 hours,
Slower, slower leisurely,
Want them to go by like 40 years
Even though the hours are still hours.
The first hour does not let me feel the importance,
The second feels a waste,
The third is always haste.
The fourth brings delight and
The fifth is just right.
Sixth brings anger,
But on the seventh,
A light of harmony drives the darkness of anger out.
Something puts a smile on my face on the eighth
And the ninth still keeps it there.
The tenth conveys laughter
And makes my day.
The approaching twenty five are full of
Cheerfulness,
And I go with the flow of cheerfulness.
In my world those 40 hours would cost more than
Jewels, mansions, and gold.
In my memory they would never be sold.
I would wait years,
For those exceptional 40 hours,
To come again.
It is that flower,
Whose aroma will stay with me forever
And that rainbow,
That appears after every shower of rain.
During those special hours,
It is like the sun shining even at night
And the stars twinkling at daytime.
40 hours are 40 hours,
And the hours soon lose power
And the last five stay,
The tear of sadness,
Runs down my face
And hits the surface of the ground.
That tear does not stay forever
It dries and found, never.
It is just like the 40 hours.
Something still makes me feel contented,
And soon I realise,
Those five hours are even special
Essential.
They are the last five hours
Of my very special 40 hours,
That I will always cherish.
The one best thing I learnt today.
That always value the thing you have less,
It’s no stress.