It rhymes with...

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    It rhymes with...
                  It's Fall !In the  pine,  he write's a rhyme!It start's with, Someday she'll be mine,and wait's for the day to the wine.then cover's it with bristle and tyne.                It's  Winter !In the garden, he write's a rhyme,it start's with,  Everyday your on my mind.Then whisper's, please hurry before I go ...Then wait's for the day to open the wine.                  It Summer But he's now Blind ... But nothing, nothing ... could stop him from writing another rhyme ! And it would start this time ...I wish you would have come before the Spring,So I could have shared my love for you and everything ! I'm still happy ... though I can only see you in my mind ...Maybe I'll write one more rhyme !  And  it shall end with !I never wonder why ...  I just know I'll love you ...                                  Till the day I die !!! 

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    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    Thelegend’s Poems (12)

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