Mother Nature
She begins to swoon when Timberwolves croon
a lost lovers tune to their goddess moon.
When a handsome loon begs his mate to spoon
in late afternoon, she blushes maroon.
One day very soon, she'll burst our balloon
for poisons we've strewn, which nothing's immune.
01/05/2017
For contest: Rhymers delight-internal momorhyme
Sponsor: John Hamilton
Copyright © Arlene Smith | Year Posted 2017
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment