EVENING BELL EVENING BELL The sound of bells and the church clock striking seven, Quietly sorrounded with tears of Babel children, In the shadow covering up with grey. The little town at evening, The breeze burst the tears of laughing mangos Whose infants are prime with flower songs, Their sleeping cover them soft and unseen. How lovely is it to be home at dusk From afar, to see brothers, still oblivious of their plan decided to enjoy the ride with them but it turned out a greatest nightmare. Within a squeeze of a lemon, To be tied hands and feet. Penplanet Poems
@ #PENPLANET we use the love God has given and the guidance of his hand to recreate his promised land. The sands of time will bring about inspiration and the gifts of God you use without hesitation. Life is a work of art, a reflection of you.