Wish. Give. Dream. Make

With a little wish, and my belittled dreams
In slightest whispers, I try scream
Work with rigour, for rest to get true
Chin held high, as the cancer grew

With every sun, I would work and toil
Then with one, I would turn to soil
Even then, I’d smile no less
Aiming for none. But just to be blessed

A smile I sport, you’d think its fake
But tears, moves me to make…

~ Satyen Poojary