Small Nightingale on perch left desolates
Upon whence in the midst viridity surrounded, Up high about heaven;
"Poor bird, you looked careworn with your wings loosened, and must 'em made you weaken."
Somewhere she glared at creations, then back to a complete calming again.
Lo! And fair shake gave to voice wobbles-
They deserved not, though-
She sounds melody and harmony with me,
Yet tells the mystery of shortage against time.
Those eyes were what more- Would soon see much, all we won't.
Giving up eternity to some heyday left perhaps the heaviest catch-up, come what may?
----------- MB Ryngkhlem
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Author:
My Boy Ryngkhlem (
Offline) - Published: November 23rd, 2022 01:58
- Comment from author about the poem: I missed my English teacher. Though she is often rude and couldn't control her emotions, she would try so hard to make us understand things. She is so loving to me and would always mention me in class. Although she's no longer with us, I had a great hope that one day I'll by any means meet her and maybe I'm a great man but then.
- Category: Sad
- Views: 71
- Users favorite of this poem: My Boy Ryngkhlem
Offline)
Comments2
Be all you can be in honour and as evidence of that great legacy. From somewhere in some manner she would be aware.
I'm sure that she would be very proud of you My Boy
That's what my heart says...
Thank you.
Most definitely,my friend,you will see her again
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