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 මුණසිංහමේ බූන්දිය ඔබේ මූණු පොතට එක් කරන්න | Share this Boondi on Facebook
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