Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2017
Aforetime at which hour we were born
In this hustling world of disharmony.
Rich for what those gents has't nev'r adorn,
Poor for what those gents has't nev'r adorn.
Conflicting for the limited, forgetting the still.
Knoweth not that the still is peace.
One day ere we receiveth inner peace.
T'will beest late for t, but not yet.
Shaik Arif
Written by
Shaik Arif  21/M/Hyderabad
(21/M/Hyderabad)   
201
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems