as you come today bringing a basket of sorrow

it is your style. a habit. or simply the role that fate has given you in life. you always bring a basket of sorrows. different sorrows. its stories. its rambles and babbles and you bring it early this morning. bad news. a broken leg. an accident. a fraud. a daughter swindled. a pregnant teen

grand daughter.

i am taking breakfast. i pretend i still like to eat the scrambled egg and the fried fish and the rice.

i sip coffee and decided to put it back on the table. you keep on telling your stories of sorrow. indeed a basket of sorrow is here to stay in the house. My house.You shed tears on the table. Some stains. I look at them. The table shrugs off. The cups are about to break and the spoons and forks are losing appetite. It has always been that. You and your sorrows. You want all of us here to be a part of your chosen sorrows.

Here we decide to be happy. We are growing the flowers of happiness in our little garden.

We have nice conversations for breakfast.

We have our own lives now. And we do not want to be a part of your lousy life.

But we must listen and pretend. We take a look at the basket of your sorrows.

We do not like it.

We wish that you leave. You are staying. We turn on the TV. You talk. You watch TV.

Now, we leave you. On your own. Take back the basket of sorrow.

We are going to the garden. The flowers of happiness are growing.

This poem speaks about how i escape from you.