Nature's catching
The chains are tight
On the ankles of the night
There is nowhere to run
For the poor poor sun
Behind the bars of jail
Cries the compressed wail
No one could find
The last great mind
Trapped in cement
Lies human development
Stuck on a high line
Stands old father time
Waiting for the day
The chains are taken away
22.2.17
YOU ARE READING
Poetry of a Blind Girl
PoetryThis a complete collection of the poetry which I have written over my lifetime. I hope that you enjoy them!
