When nights go freezingin quiet English winters
and flutters grow wild
over cosy feather beds
A quiet child tiptoes to loo
on cold zig-zag tiles
teensy slabs smile
at the kid's tender soles
A wince they send
to the sole's soul
And...
an icky snuffle starts
that soon conspires
to spread like bush fire
and floors the entire household!
Thats what you call the English cold!
Samy
As beautiful and funny as poetry can get. And hows the kid doing now?
ReplyDeleteLeera Roy, Management executive
ha ha ha. Brian laughs. Thats funny for sure. English Cold. Nice composition. Nicely written.
ReplyDeleteLook forward to read more of you in the days to come.
Hey sam. who is this addressed to. I hate this element of curiosty in your lines. Always cryptic but nonetheless beautiful as ever. Genius are you!
ReplyDeleteSoul sends a message to the soul. Amazing analogy. Like your style. I have bookmarked your beautiful blog. I also keep a blog but can't write half as beautiful and efforlessly as you so. Jenny
ReplyDeleteWell writen verses. frankly i dont follow much of your erudite, modern english expressions but all the same love reading u whenever i get some time.
ReplyDeletekeep up th egood work