Grit
P Pradip Chattopadhyay
0
Altın Yaprak
Nice to see you are opening the shop.
Saying this
I search for lines of distress on her face
On her widowed eyes a painful strain
For when went her man
The way she wailed
It seemed she would never be sane again!
She smiles now I run it alone
Sale is low
And I’m weighed down
With his pile of debt!
In her smile are hopes regrown
A telltale sign of grit
The show must go on.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş