rhyme
Cobbles form a courtyard, cannon in the wall.
Caltrop, rifle shot, grenade and naught at all.
Tile in the turf under rock and under worm.
Pot sherds without worth, and key without lock to turn.
Searching through mud, hauling off the Earth.
Hunting for artifacts; all we find is dirt.
Caltrop, rifle shot, grenade and naught at all.
Tile in the turf under rock and under worm.
Pot sherds without worth, and key without lock to turn.
Searching through mud, hauling off the Earth.
Hunting for artifacts; all we find is dirt.
posted by rob | 10:43 AM
1 Comments:
Oh, sir, the verissimilitude of your verse, the potency of thought, the vigor and the vitality of line.... cute rhytme. I like it.
lov.e
Post a Comment
<< Home