The Poet Chooses
~~Please note..,not about me~~
Speak to me only of Spring, I plead!
My eyes have no use of humanity's wars nor needs.
Sing to me of hot dogs on charcoal, red hot and glowing.
Tell me not of hundreds dying, by bombs of rock throwing.
Or of first kisses, warm and sweet, those I will read.
I won't read your poetry about soldiers with forever lost feet!
Sing a song of foolishness, now that is to my liking!
Dare you pen poetry linked to reality~that sets my poet soul hiking'
5/25/202i
Copyright © Panagiota Romios | Year Posted 2021
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