Bless Canada where
I dwelt in self ordained confinement
and
woke up each morn,
to the sun,
trying to peek in
through the venetian blinds.

I felt like playing mischief,
closed my eyes,
till the sun was up
in the heavens,
only for a brief moment,

Suddenly,
snow captured the sight of Canadians,
I rested still wanting to bask,
in the winter sun alas,

But the Almighty my desire did kill.
It helped me through
two years and a half,
to compose over 3500 poems,
the score seeds
beyond poetic destiny,
now over seven thousand
Crack my head...

My critiques in disbelief,
as most consider me
an orphan of poetry ,
age not withstanding,
as none know me
the millions of sunrises
I had since seen
eons passed