At times He is my friend
But never my enemy

Sometimes, when life is sour
I greatly dislike Him for an hour
But He always loves me

Although I don't read His Book
As often as I should
Don't praise His name daily
Or go to church every Sunday
He still accepts me and loves me as His own

To this, all I have to say is
Thank you.

Rain makes me happy
The softness of the trickle
The fresh scent of water
Purification of the air
Why this pleases me so
I do not know
And I do not dare to ask

Oh, oh geometry
How I dislike thee
You cause bad days
And haunt me with awful grades
Who invented it, I say?!

I am not sure what to write about.
Too many topics,
Stories to be told.
Where do I start?
More importantly,
When do I yield to a gentle stop,
to look back at my progress?

I am confused
Of all this talk of love
What is it exactly?
They say
It is the beating of one's heart
and soul to another's rhythm
They say it is the need of understanding
Of acceptance
Of one individual to another.

This is love.

Poetry, oh poetry
How I do enjoy thee
Why, I do not
But yet I do.
It is because of your unending grace
The outlet of my emotions
The socket of my heart
I love thee, oh poetry
I do