The Echoes Plained Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
The Echoes Plained
Too late, too late
Too late
The echoes plained
The echoes
Warned
Too late, too late
Then rose he
And erect
He stood
And thought
And thought.
‘But, ' said he
‘All has a remedy
if only with sacrifice.
I will make sacrifice
And get a remedy, '
And so
He made
And so
It was not ever
Too late, too late
Too late
Too late, too late
Too late.
Saturday, September 20, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: life
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4/25/2024 6:40:01 AM # 1.0.0.1119
