SUPPORT...
She's a climber,
With her fragile tendrils,
Is arduous to grow up
High as hills.
Don't want to be vanquished
By strong wind,
Or any other natural apocalypse;
Help her please.
There came her supporter,
Her praiser,
Acting as a vallum to her.
She climbed as high she can,
To reach the moon,
As ill luck struck then,
The supporter got rotten,
With none to replace him.
Climber pleads,
"Don't leave me!"
Sobs she,
The supporter,
Left her to fight for her survival
Alone...
YOU ARE READING
SHADES
PoetryA series of poems describing the different shades of a person's life...
