the poem

The day has turn to night
The color has dull its hue
The flowers sprout in fall
And die as summer crawl

The bees has still there honey
And birds still sing their endless chirp
Like the colorful butterflies so gay
Where beautiful flowers they stay

The poet still writes his narrative poem
With verses you read along
With sweet endings that rhymes
Like the songs in the old times

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s