Many have asked...
...the point of a poem.

To say that, you must not know...

A poem is a work,
a work of art,
a work you may never forget
It is a working star.

Time goes slow
when the mime is a crow
When stuff goes by
a way to flow.

The world may not be big
to compare to the sun.

Bright lights,
fire might,
time you may not loose.

Giant crows,
hornless moose,
a clock without hands,
a world with no end,
would be great.

But a poem with no end would be bad
So, let’s end this poem with…

…The End.


සිඳුසර මුණසිංහ



මේ බූන්දිය ඔබේ මූණු පොතට එක් කරන්න | Share this Boondi on Facebook
| edit post
Reactions: 
Related Posts with Thumbnails