.......................PAIN........................

Fields, would bear not crops,

Being bathed in water drops,

And in the sun so bright

Alone; tis’ needed all right,

But plough’s pain, its sting,

This in reality does bring,

Sweet success : to eyes this is seen,

Through pains which it has been,

Lose remembrance, all too soon,

They are though, the real boon.

Imparters of zeal, and of vigour,

These traits it does trigger,

In souls having known,

The pleasure of pain, and grown.

Like snowflakes on a mountain top,

Pains eventually do drop,

In valleys of oblivion, they lie.

But if you did, or did not try,

Etched for perpetuity, it stays,

For the your life, your nights and days.

Honeyed be every path we cross,

Pleasure would lose its charm, its gloss,

But buttered bread, after starving nights,

Tastes better ‘an all the pleasurely bites.............................................................