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
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