Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2019
I see blossoms sleeping everywhere,
Watching them out the window on my chair.

My Saturday morning always starts boring,
Suddenly I smell someone cooking.

Someone knocked on the door,
It’s my sister and told me she was poor.

Wanting my pocket money,
While asking for honey.

This is so boring,
I need to go dancing.
This is my Saturday; very boring
Joy
Written by
Joy  F
(F)   
247
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems