Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2017
The little lass basks in the sun,
Her face caressed by the grass,

But she flails about, thrashes about,
When the day’s one torrential downpour,

The little lass, bare-footed, stands,
Oh, is she a lass? *No more.
A woman recollects her idyllic childhood days outdoors.
Written by
belle
314
   Lior Gavra
Please log in to view and add comments on poems