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By lit_lover
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07 February 2007 |
There is a school near my college. kids in that school were playing basketball.
under the hot sun enthusisatically. i longed to be with thaem
Golden Ball of fire
Shining over their heads
Whoosh…whoosh….
The breeze blowing
Away their shawls
yet they play basketball
with all their might
Watched over by their guide
Running, laughing, hugging
Let them play all their innings
B’cos this is the time they can play
The ground they play
Is neat and tidy
Lined with red and green
Rows of bushes of crotons
Let them play
As if they have
Never played before
And will never again
B’cos happy times
Come to an end soon
Up in the space
Goes the big brown ball
Up above their heads
Into their goal hoop
It soars high as their aim
And
Falls right into the goal
I wish them all luck
For the same to happen
To them
To their
aim and fame
I write all these
B’coz I can only
write the play
Watching from my class
Let them play with their clay
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Written by Fledermaus (3281 comments posted) 7th February 2007 | | It's a nice poem, but you realy should do something about the font. |
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