I Gave You Nothing (From, Poems Of Papa Due) Poem by Peter S. Quinn

I gave you nothing,
For you were not fresh;
Only for bluffing,
Only for less.

Coming to be,
Where places are from;
I can not see,
The interne's bloom.

Talent or not,
I wouldn't want this here;
Nothing is hot,
Inside somewhere.

Be of to dust,
With a feeling like this;
All things must rust,
For what it then is.

The ways are reptilian,
Like games of their own;
Then do what you can,
In another wise tone.

Yellowing brown soil,
Caresses the heart;
Burrowed in foil,
From the very start.

You are of grey,
The feeling you give;
Lost character’s stray,
In what you may live.

The changing’s go on,
Though never for you;
For caresses are done,
That never was true.
And what seem to be fun,
Has left into the blue;
Over past yon,
Lays the rest all too.

You are of gray,
The feeling you give;
Lost character’s stray,
In what you may live.

You are and say...