I was listening to a poet reciting his poem “Times”. He was pondering, could it be like this and that? Suddenly my cup of tea happened to taste so sweet, made me wonder why wasn’t it such an edgy, a while ago any time before now just as tasty.
Where on a stony thorn was it stuck this long? It had to bloom just now, so sweet a rose! No one predicted whether it will rain or not, it just drops. The sun, shedding clouds, suddenly swims so low!
Pondering me, I could then only digest it accepting a truth: It doesn’t matter when the bees love to come out, sit on the rose and fly. For the time, its best bard only sings on time!