New Moon Party Poem by Bruce Larkin
New Moon Party
There is no man
In all this land
Happier than the fellow
In the citrus stand.
He’s a citrus seller.
He sells oranges all day.
You may call it work,
But he calls it play.
He’ll sell you tasty fruit
With or without skin.
He’ll cut your orange thick
Or slice your lemon thin.
If you’re a bit hungry,
Come see citrus seller Bruce.
If you find you’re thirsty,
Just ask for orange juice.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/12/2024 1:26:32 AM # 1.0.0.1119
