"donating" poems
Are those grocery bags heavy?
Here, let me give you a hand.
WATCH OUT!
You might fall!
Do you want to take my plane ticket?
Take it. I don't have time for vacation.
Thank you so much for this check!
Anything to help the homeless.
Thanks for donating so much!
Kids need books, don't they?
You have helped out so much!
All in a day's work.
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 4:36 PM UTC
Is there room for context at this table?
We can move some dishes and shuffle chairs.
I’ve checked all four legs and they seem stable,
but choosing a placemat is like splitting hairs.
I notice the candle’s flame is getting dim,
and my fingers pirouette in the puddles of wax,
my hair needs a cut but I settled for a trim,
and I’m donating my salary and spending my tax.
I’ve told you every thought in my head,
except the ones that matter the most,
the facts that scald my cheeks to red,
now they’re burning up like charred toast.
I’d promise you whatever you ask for,
and I’d drag myself to deliver each time,
but I’m ignoring the truth at my core,
and I’m confessing to you in mime.
Sit across from me with crossed legs,
see magnets becomes our eyes,
“come closer together” both begs,
but we’re determined and polarized.
There’s no world existing around us,
and there certainly is no group,
you listen while I ramble and make a fuss,
over the death of Lipton’s Alligator Soup.
We turned Heaven into a Hell,
we took a skeleton and made a shell,
We dragged our nails down the walls
scribbled ephiphanies on bathroom stalls,
and silenced a story we could never tell.
And all the things that have driven us apart,
in truth have only made us stronger.
and my love you are actually my heart,
I won’t question it’s beating any longer.
If you’re stuck with a choice
you should flip a coin in the air,
then listen to your mind’s voice,
‘cause your answer will be there.
When it comes to heads or tails,
you already know your favourite side,
you’ll pray for it as the coin sails,
ignore the outcome but absorb the ride.
Jan 13, 2019
Jan 13, 2019 at 12:10 PM UTC
red torii gates separate the sacred
engraved with kana names
I step on the stone tiles
reinvent myself by praying
to every god I have never believed in
donating all the coins I have to shrines
the omamori will protect me
with pretty ribbons, silk, and wood
their birds guide to understanding
converting lies into truths before me
their paper songs a tender kindness
and there is courage within me
even as my voice turns to melody
my words spill out a tune
the temple walls hum
a chorus of veracity, louder
I have come to realize the importance
of moral authenticity within me
your gracious decency, divine
delicate gentleness with my fragility
from shattered pieces I rebuild
recollect myself and rise stronger
the sakura blossoms melt
the tide rises up the torii
compelled by a cold moon
wooden birds take flight away
and I return solid and true
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 1:27 AM UTC
Don’t read this if you’re squeamish,
Or if you’re eating food at the present,
Since some of the subjects discussed in this poem,
Are let’s just say rather unpleasant,
On the subject of donating organs,
Or the subject of organs at all,
It’s not unusual for my claims to leave,
Some subjects feeling pretty appalled,
Now I’d say that most people die,
In fact I’d vouch that it happens quite often,
But when my time comes, set has my sun,
I want all of me in that coffin,
Now I get it, I’d save lives if I donated,
And I don’t mean to sound like a **** (yes I do),
But the unmissable flaw, the foot in the door,
Is that not all of my parts seem to work,
My eyes are screwy, my heart’s far too cold,
The state of my lungs’ll make you shiver,
My kidneys too small, I'm not sure I have a pancreas,
And don’t get me started on my liver,
And let me tell you with a face like mine,
Not showcasing this beauty’s a sin,
But it’s awfully hard to have an open casket,
If I’m not sporting any of my skin
It’s selfish and weird I know that,
But my eyes are where my soul is exposed!
…Yeah actually my soul’s pretty tainted,
Can someone make sure that my eyes are closed?
I only want those I love to have a part of me,
So if I’m forced, if I’m forced, to partake,
-
-
-
They’ll be frying up my organs,
For refreshments at my wake.
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 3:22 PM UTC
I'm broke
Because i keep donating money
What am i going to buy that's important this holiday with a few extra dollars?
I'm going to give it to someone who needs all the help they can get
I'm putting my dreams of charity into reality
Welcome to my vision of America.
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 1:53 PM UTC
The Mockery of Fairyland
In silence watching, as fellow, fallow fairies dance,
Sylphs float above while gnomes furrow,
Donating water brothers.
Undine.
Spiritual creatures, unseen.
Creation of nature from nature.
Mankind evading.
Those fairies will still catch your eye,
In form of genus butterfly.
God forbid you meet them.
Stumble on their fairy rings.
You should never ever tell a fairy your name.
For in fairyland you may remain.
For safety's sake.
While you're out walking in the woods.
Inside out, you must wear your shirt,
Wear a ring of of iron!
So you can breach the fairies curse.
For in seven year cycles.
Fairies must donate to hell.
A good soul,Tam Hin.
Because he tricked the fairy queen.
She had to set him free.
Ti's said.
As man folk mate.
Fairies do true procreate.
In a way akin to ours!
Hybrid fairies once existed.
They were such melancholy souls.
Far too sad to live in fairyland.
Too fairy like to live on earth!
Titania she still sits waiting patiently.
For her Oberon to arrive.
King and queen of fairyland, in literacy.
Supreme?
No Fallacy!
By ladylivvi1
May 24, 2013
May 24, 2013 at 4:56 AM UTC
For the first time on campus, Sisters on the Runway will strut and pose for domestic violence awareness.
Sisters on the Runway will be hosting its first annual fashion show from 7 p.m. to 9 p.m. tonight in the Business Building. All proceeds will be donated to the Centre County Women's Resource Center, Layla Taremi president of the organization, said.
Sisters on the Runway is a national student-run organization that raises awareness about women and children who reside in domestic violence shelters. There are over five chapters throughout the nation, each supporting the same cause to local shelters. It was founded in 2009 and has grown since then, Taremi (sophomore-marketing) said.
Aside from the fashion show, which is the biggest fundraising event that the organization hosts, Sisters on the Runway is also responsible for other events. The organization hosts a chalking event where they write facts about domestic violence on sidewalks using chalk. This is a way for them to raise domestic violence awareness, Taremi said. It also hosts a walk where all participants walk a mile in heels for awareness.
The show will consist of eleven female models and three male models, Edie Alexander, the event planner, said.
Alexander said the show is expected to showcase clothing from Connections, Dwellings, Diamonds and Lace Bridal and Harper's, who are also their sponsors. Looks Hair Salon will be responsible for hair and makeup for the models in show, Taremi said.
"There is no theme for the show,” Taremi said. “It will be a wide spectrum of clothing."
The male models are expected to walk the runway showcasing suits and tuxedos, Taremi said. Originally the show was not going to include male models. It wasn't until the owners of Harper's decided to contribute to the show by donating some men's apparel for the fashion show.
All the models participating have been building up their confidence for the runway, Alexander (sophomore-recreation park and tourism management) said.
"I'm excited for our first annual fashion show, I hope this brings more awareness to the Penn State community," Vice President Lauren Shearer (sophomore-supply chain management) said.
The organization’s goal is to get a lot of people involved through different events to help raise awareness of domestic violence, Shearer said.
"We’re trying to push people to come, not just Penn State students, because it's not an issue that doesn't only affects college students,” Alexander said. “It affects everyone as well."Read more here:www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-adelaide
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 11:13 PM UTC
Woman birthed. Woman raised.
I am no biproduct
donating ***** does not make one a factor
back strained, she supported me like Atlas
sheltered me with wingspan like Daedalus
her love stronger than the Greek gods
Aphrodite was her apprentice
agape her creation
her love for me surpassed my love of self
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 8:27 PM UTC
Competition is nothing, but looking for some external
factor to drive you, People who has strong self will not depend
on competition to raise. Generally, people who
practice competition has reached the top of the world,
stayed as rich, but also carried enormous amount of guilt
and finally, some of them taken refuge in Donating
their earning to the charities.
The competition lover, find their life miserable,
once they became old. They all experienced a kind of
big hole inside of them coz their nature of movement of
life was depended on external factor. Initially, the competition,
which has given special kind of energy to reach their goal
and the same has made them to feel weak and empty.
If you create an illusion of competition in every walk of life,
then the net result will be disappointment. So instead of
depending on external factor, Better to develop our self in
small phases.
To develop Self, we can use competition in the beginning and
once the 'Flow' is created then we can switch over to
strengthening the SELF.
Jan 13, 2016
Jan 13, 2016 at 8:46 PM UTC
Traditionalism is what they follow,
Prehistoric is how they live,
Caring none about real human beings!
They depend on human protection,
Yet they pray the lifeless idols & establishments,
Statues & religion they call them and waste money on them.
They would do their own important work,
Tell me to better stop writing these blasphemous poems,
Praying, remembering the lord & idol-worshiping is all they care about.
People like them won't donate directly to the poor,
They say that they put some money in the places of worship,
Idols - their idols is who they live for and survive by.
My telling this to my countrymen or anybody in the world is vain,
They would still go to on or more places of worships,
Think that it is not idol worshiping and again not serve the needy directly.
They can only criticize me for writing blasphemous words of pain,
They would even fight with or **** me if they got hold of me,
But they won't stop idol-worshiping and start serving the poor directly themselves.
A Messiah calls the idol-worshipers,
To avoid going to places of worship,
To come and serve the real world,
To realize that what you are losing,
To help you realize the value of humanity,
To make you realize the value of the real world.
If you're not scared of change then join me in this new religion,
Here we don't worry about God/Ishwar/Bhagwan/Rabb,
But we do things that make The Power Happy,
Do social service and cleaning their houses,
Help the needy monetarily/practically,
Instead of just donating somewhere,
Shun donations to the places of worship,
Go to the needy personally or parcel them happiness,
Make sure that the courier service/other establishment you use is 100% genuine.
Avoid those agencies who are supposedly in one of the common names of The Power,
Hire a company/firm to actually make your donations reach the needy,
It'll be very helpful for the humanity which is prime & real,
Try this by whatever methods you find genuine,
You'll feel yourself elated & calm,
Take my word,
Seriously.
Apr 27, 2013
Apr 27, 2013 at 4:26 AM UTC
I have had two opportunites to meet Muhammad Ali, once in Oklahoma City(1972) while working for KWTV Channel-9, and the second time in 1975,working for WAVE-TV Channel-3, Louisville, Kentucky, which is his hometown. On each occasion he was in town for some type of benefit appearance. At Channel 3, the sports director was Ed Kallay, who was to do the interview, and who just happened to be Ali's mentor when Ali was much younger and involved with "Golden Gloves", a youth boxing organization. I was a 'director' in the production dept. and it was my job to set up and direct the cameras, etc., during the taping.
He was a fascinating man, eloquent, extremely intelligent, charismatic, approachable, with a great sense of humor. When I introduced myself, he looked at me and said,"I've met you before, in Oklahoma City." Needless to say, "I was stunned!"
During the 'pre-taping' conversation, the three of us were having a cup of coffee. I made a comment on the size of his hands. I placed my right hand flat against his left, thumb to thumb, finger to finger.. He curled his fingers over mine, nearly hiding them. I sure wouldn't want to get hit by him.
He was, admittingly, also a 'bit' of a 'self-promoter.' During that conversation, he made the following comment: "A few weeks before a fight, I start shooting my mouth off, make a lot of people mad, but come fight night they really lay it down, (then took his thumb and swiped it across the open palm of his other hand, simulating the money bets being placed with the Vegas bookies.) let the 'show' begin!" And, did it ever!!
He was also a great humanitarian, donating to various charities, youth organizations, and never forgetting his roots.
A remarkable man! God Bless You, Muhammad Ali!
richard riddle: 06-05-2016
Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 12:17 PM UTC
stitches.
a stab taken for healing purposes
proof my being is but dangling on a string.
mental scarring turns out to be more permanent than the ones I gave my wrist.
self-hate, self-doubt, self-destruction
I'm a snake that bites its own tail
donating a venom transfusion into my bloodstream.
staples.
shards of metal punched through my life
in a sad attempt of composure.
running from myself as my life runs away from me
emotional damage runs deeper than any blade could.
self-medicated by the pain
and mistaking poison for a sweet elixir
my world turns upside down in a matter of minutes.
sutures.
a single strand of fiber
responsible for keeping everything sewn together.
I'm a pretty little cross-stitch
patterned to perfection but laced with nightmares and a handful of bad memories.
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 12:43 PM UTC
there was a little cat and his name was bob
he just love to burgle always on the rob
he would rob the rich and give to those ineed
a very friendly cat a thoughtful cat indeed
climbing up the drainpipes he was very fit
with his torch and sack his little burgle kit
getting in through windows that were left ajar
a proper little thief a litttle burgle star
roaming round the house to see what he could find
that would help the poor he was very kind
looking through the draws and the wardrobes to
searched in every room like the burglers do
then he would get his ***** put it in his sack
wiping off his finger prints not leave his track
then off to help the poor the little cat would go
donating all his ***** gave there hearts a glow
now his deed was done just like robin hood
he had helped the poor just like he said he would.
then he fell asleep tired now was he
happy and content as happy as can be
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 8:56 AM UTC
considering reflections!
spectacular expressions excited by vernacular action
spicy and exotic erecting complexity!
forgetting the selective dyslexia
mental anorexia like pecs flexing
lacking dialect donating directions!
elementary subtraction of expletives
what the heck do they expect!
exclusion unaccepted
best guess reckon you're a wreck
what the heck no explanation!
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 3:38 AM UTC
Chasing the dreams to touch the sky, shaking the roots of feminism;
Happy to shoot for the Vogue, Cosmopolitan and Gia's plagiarism-
All for her superstar Angel, she lived the attitude of lesbianism;
From Philadelphia to New York she sold, her fraternity and parental prism-
The ambitious gal, the ambition gal felt addicted to ******* and heroinism.
Climbing the hills in Beverly was not tough enough, shredding chastity for mean;
Hallowing for her Tomb Raider, she swallowed her city of sin-
All in her attempts she brewed her habits, she tattooed destiny for her queen;
From abortion to scandals; she breathed to see her prolific akin-
The injured gal, the pitted gal still nearly was not doomed to grin.
Succumbing like the serpentine in salt, still longing to meet her dream star;
One fine morning she was found half-dead down the alley, waging her life-war-
All the fever she had, yet not looking to get out of the foxfire;
From one hospital to another, she was taken and was declared a patient of cancer;
The lucky gal, the ******* gal was lame enough to meet her jester.
The tumor had eaten her bones, like the steroids that made her a body-
Donating a million dollars in charity, made a brief appearance by Angelina Jollie;
All in her graceful charm, she penetrated hope to fight the disease folly-
From a life directionless to the motive of her strife, she kissed her cheeks and regretted being silly-
The ambitious gal, the ambition gal had just a single day to cherish her so called glory.
Jul 13, 2010
Jul 13, 2010 at 4:15 AM UTC
to some
spring cleaning
may be about donating the shirt
you haven't worn since 7th grade
or dusting every single picture frame
or scrubbing the tile
or sweeping and vacuuming
that's not my spring cleaning
my spring cleaning
is about changing the way i've been
ever since the 7th grade
and changing every single thing about me
or creating the persona i want to be
or removing and restarting
that's my spring cleaning
n.d.
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 10:36 AM UTC
I was taught to add and subtract at the age of four. My twenty year old mother would sit me down on the grass while waiting for my aunt to get out of high school, and teach me my numbers on her big, scarred hands. I was five when I realized something that would change me for the rest of my life. The number six and the number four are both just one away from being a solid five.
At six years old, my classmate and I were given our daily snacks. My friend had gotten six crackers, while I got four. I asked, “may I have a ******* She reminded me that I had already gotten my napkin-full of crackers. “But if you give me one, we will both have five.” She bugged her eyes at me.
“I wanna have more,” she said. I shook my head at her, and ate my four crackers.
I wanted to participate in my elementary school’s food drive when I was ten years old, and in fifth grade. I was motivated to make a change for families in need of canned food. When I went home and asked my mom for cans, she explained to me that the cans that my schoolmates were donating would probably end up in our pantry, because we get our food from the local foodbank. I looked up at our pantry. I saw some dusty cans in the back that hadn’t been touched, and multiple cans next to them. I then remembered when we didn’t have even one can, and thought of the families who didn’t have even one can right then. And then I thought: But we have six, and they have four...
A homeless man and I both had five the day I bought him a sandwich when I was fourteen.
My best friend had four when she was sexually abused, and I gave up one when I shoved past the school security guards and got her to the hospital at the age of fifteen.
The year I turned sixteen I figured I had six when I realized there was an unfairness at my school. I gave my fellow students one when I convinced the principal to make a change about it, after being sent to him for disturbing the class with my speech.
I gave up one of my six when I turned seventeen and wrote the inspiring story of my brother’s car crash, for all of the people with four in their broken hearts.
As long as I have six, I will continue to give one. I won’t stop until everyone has five, and the world is one big ten.
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 12:25 AM UTC
Give praise to the Passover Lamb,
the only begotten Son of the Great I Am.
For He willingly humbled Himself
and served as the propitiation for our sins;
His Truth will be revealed at Earth's end,
from having laid down His life as our Friend.
Give praise to the Passover Lamb,
the holy begotten Son of the Great I Am.
Our Lord made the ultimate sacrifice,
donating Himself as the World's sin offering.
Although temporarily buried in death's tomb,
He exited triumphantly from that cryptal womb.
Give praise to the Passover Lamb,
the eternal begotten Son of the Great I Am.
Today He sits at the right hand of the Father,
humbly interceding on our behalf daily!
Now is still the acceptable day of Salvation,
for He paid the cost for our soul's preservation.
Give praise to the Passover Lamb,
the blessed begotten Son of the Great I Am.
Entertaining thoughts of a spiritual breakthrough?
Know that it is not too late to save your soul.
For those who dare, Victory is available to everyone
that receives the sacred gift of the firstborn Son.
Give praise to the Passover Lamb,
the divine begotten Son of the Great I Am.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Heb 1:1-3, 12:2; Phil 2:8-9; Rom 3:19-26, 6:4; 2 Cor 6:2;
Eph 3:9; John 1:18, 3:16; Jam 2:14-26; 1 Cor 15
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, � 2012, All rights reserved.
May 2, 2013
May 2, 2013 at 7:25 AM UTC
i didn't donate blood today. i could've, but i didn't. my friends did. all day, people talked about the donors like they were heroes. we watched a video about donating, about a little girl whose live was saved thanks to a donation. my friends' blood will save lives. but i didn't donate today, because my blood is thick with misguided bits of you and to burden someone else with that would be to condemn them, too, to hell.+
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 10:08 PM UTC
The days when the blood of a child still flowed in my veins
When you couldn't be certain if i had a brain
Running helter-skelter,you'd assume i didn't have shelter
I had my whole life ahead of me
What i was living was a bonus for me
I'd have fun now and get serious with God some time in the after
Afterall,for decades now it's been one ridiculous story of the rapture or the other
I couldn't risk being called "jon"
Afterall even the Good Book says to enjoy life in Ecclesiastes
The condition stated there served as black polish on my silver shoe-totally not needed
Life was a bed of roses for me as i jumped into different beds like one in a hurdle race
My skirts could be likened to the length of time the devil can stay in Light
But i was still a child,i'd do church in the future,i compensated myself
The future came a bit too soon,when i aggressively hugged a moving car one night
My fake amnesia disappeared as every word of Ecclesiastes 11:9 echoed loudly like the siren of the ambulance in my head
Grace came through for me,pulling mercy along,for my life was spared
When every other limb but my right hand was cut off,i knew exactly what to do with it
True,i can't stare back at the girl in the mirror today without donating tears,but from today,i put my right hand to work for Yeshua
BE INSPIRED!!!
Jn9:4!!!!!
#pumped
Yeshua's B.A.E
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 2:59 PM UTC
Three early birds broke the flying record today,
Under a ball of yellow light and sky of white cobwebs,
Uphill, amidst a godforsaken town,
At the far end of the deserted residential area,
In front of our binned and bagged house,
On the peach tiles of our topsy-turvy garage,
Inside a scroungy cardboard box,
Between the wasted space and rotten nest made of broom,
Where they left their bodies mushy and misshapen,
Where a colony of red ants now celebrate for a carrion feast.
They flew higher than any in their kind could ever reach,
That they went straight to heaven,
Early for their embellished feathers and wings,
Early for their final cartilages,
Early for their full-grown beak and claws,
Early for their black, beady eyes,
Early for their last rites,
Yet for us to forecast the bad news,
Yet for us to get off of our plastic chairs of indifference,
Yet for us to drop our glasses of lemon juice and inattention,
Yet for us to fumble outdoor and crash the ceremony,
Yet for us to solve the mystery,
Of whether the ball of yellow light radiated enough to fry,
That the three early birds had to fly the coop to oasis;
Of whether our mother's frenzy gave a cold welcome,
That the three early birds had to say goodbye when she tossed the box out;
Of whether I am to blame for yesterday's miracle
Of finding their home attached to the open bottom of our air-conditioner,
Which turned into a tragedy of a falling baby out of excitement,
That the three early birds felt like it was time to join their fourth sibling once again.
Indeed, too early
For the three siblings endowed with a mother and a father,
For mankind is blessed enough to have such a thing as family,
Who claimed the three early ones before the garbage does,
Who could've been proud parents in the future,
For witnessing the becoming of their three youngs
Who came out too soon,
Who were traceless of eggshells,
Who never knew a father,
Who were ****** enough to even be abandoned by a mother,
Who never knew if she even came back for them,
Who broke the flying record.
Indeed, too early.
After days of packing up sentiments,
Donating valuables,
Throwing away memories,
And leaving behind possessions,
I thought, for a moment,
We could save something
But we couldn't.
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 10:15 AM UTC
Not many would better understand than me the meaning of first hand serving experience.
I volunteered and used to teach in a group called 'Swapan' (run by the social service group Nishqam of CITM Faridabad, now known as MRIU) which undertook imparting laborers' kids free education.
I don't believe in donating because I don't earn yet, but I volunteer whenever I am able to go out to their world. I just wait for the right time I get to be in contact with such people.
What I did in Swapan program was more than just teaching; we used to take care of their health by getting them periodic vaccination, by having them attend a regular school near our college, getting their fees deposited, organizing events for mustering funds for the same and many more.
But at the end of my 2nd year I met a serious accident, just prior to my 4th semester B.Tech-Biotech exams which pushed me into a 23 day coma; I was close to death. But I didn't lose my spirit even after I came back to my senses.
As the path of destiny had it, CITM became MRIU which didn't continue with the MDU degree I'm currently enrolled into. So I was made to shift colleges and go to Rohtak for college since then and there was no such opportunity anywhere in close proximity.
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 8:38 AM UTC
Though life is priceless
And invaluable,
To be frank,
The blood, one donates
To a blood bank,
An oasis in
Life-devoid desert
A delivering mother's
An accident victim's
A nation defending
Soldier's life,
Helps to regain back!
What a lofty task!
What a lofty task!
Donating the resilient blood
Does not affect
Our health's statuesque,so
Once in a while
Let us learn,to a nearby
Blood bank to go!
When sinks in the idea,
Of such a holy venture
Following suit
All will nurture the culture!
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 3:11 AM UTC
to some
spring cleaning
may be about donating the shirt
you haven't worn since 7th grade
or dusting every single picture frame
or scrubbing the tile
or sweeping and vacuuming
that's not my spring cleaning
my spring cleaning
is about changing the way i've been
ever since the 7th grade
and changing every single thing about me
or creating the persona i want to be
or removing and restarting
that's my spring cleaning
n.d.
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 1:13 PM UTC
Don't you think our friendship is amusing
We rarely have a meeting
Or people call it a friend dating
Yet we're still contacting
Freaking every day one's thinking
How to make each other amazing
And to improve attitude doing
Not just to use fluffy words babe-darling
But to manifest love in our own way
And avoid separating.
Do you notice,
When you're happy
My heart dance genuinely
When you brightly smile
My heart is closer to you a mile
When you're excited
I'm donating my limbs to be cheered
When you utter something
I agree without hesitating
And do I realise,
When I cry
You provide a comfort room to rely
When I feel exhausted
You swing to be an energy booster
When my mood turns down
You send sweet phrases that make me frown
When I feel bright
You add another enormous light
When flower loses its scent
When world seems come to an end
My vast light is from a best friend
YOU, whose love never bent.
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 8:34 AM UTC