Poetry is a tar drum
hollowed out and injected with
treacle.
ittakestime on (Cream, Linen) Curtains | |
vishalbheeroo on (Cream, Linen) Curtains | |
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Pallavi Sharma on (Cream, Linen) Curtains | |
Aunty G. on (Cream, Linen) Curtains |
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Tar is tar
No can par
Poetry
Is tree
Spreading shade afar!
Aunty G: I deeply regret
That you may forget
My words do not comfort
They flow in the odd spurt
Too often from a font of fret.