To think of the burning woods at night Not where it went nor were it came Rather what it caused
The delight became pictorial
And that’s the skies
Hopefully I might show my face In shanties at the sides of the roads, Or on a mountain while hiking. How sweet it would taste
Too rapt to explain
If you care to listen
Who of little love
With whom I dare not touch or feel Rather even dare to dream
I wonder how the rich may feel
Knowing they have it all at bay
For ample converting and
For this poignant luxury, I choose to obey And hopefully I may return, unsaved
Comments (1)
I wonder how the rich may feel Knowing they have it all at bay These lines are the ultimate truth and I wonder the same thing! Loved your poem!