My eyes are tired,
And my finger can't work.
I take too much load,
From dawn to dark.
As poetry calls me,
I'm sitting before her.
I must play with words,
Until sleep becomes bar.
Beautiful poem Neela. Yes sometimes we are really too tired. But we cannot avoid writing poetry. Loved it.
Please play with her words and stroke her hair clip her nails, then paint, and give her bows! All is well! Heaven knows! Please keep making time it sit with her we are bless by that reunion!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Luvinthe Now gave the right advice. Poetry is your precious child loved by so many.