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.