UNFINISHED
MASTERPIECE
He
rises up to the first cock’s crow,
Three
dozen strides, It’s his field of corn,
Three
hours in, first drops down his brow;
…..
Picks
up his coat, dusts up his shoes,
Fills
up his cart, Giddy up his horse,
Time
to call it a rest;
His
piece anyway, the best.
Whistles
all the way up hill,
Waves
to Johnny at the mill,
Along
the way passersby smiles;
Hiding
their envy, greener than bile.
By: Gregory
Lelei (Kaplong)
No comments:
Post a Comment