Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2018
The air was so clean
An heir I hoped to meet
The son of a friend
In the sun
And I promised not to stare
As I walked up the stair
Through the aisle
That led to the isle
The trees that were there
Were mostly of pear
Though some were the sum of the not
And the smell was so sweet
As I returned to my suite
As this tale finally comes
To its tale
Shamai
Written by
Shamai  Israel
(Israel)   
948
   Ben's Oldies
Please log in to view and add comments on poems