The moment the moon is cast,
all who look at its mass.
A man you see,
with a brass-
trumpet he wills.
So...
I called upon this lad,
asked for a tad.
some music please! some music to please!
O- please play that trumpet,
and let it ever last.
for I can hear you batter brass.
From that moment forth,
he grinned then moved north-
The man had left me,
but the battered brass,
lasted its tab.
d/1URz2pSi3aGzKrY859vX2O
DO NOT FORGET CHARLES
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Author:
Elias (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 7th, 2022 02:17
- Comment from author about the poem: 071815: 130308011812519 not Elijah
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 28
Offline)
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