An angry female figure rushed outside,
Bewildered by the mess that had been made.
Just by the miserable ball that had grown clear spine,
Sure enough, she can guess, who are the culprits to be blamed.
With the reproachful muttering under her breath,
The middle-aged woman scurried back in.
When the sun was down and sky was orange,
Her twins shall wish they had not gone home:
For when they did,
They shall know the strength of a wooden stick.
Just like how their mother had guaranteed that afternoon...
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Beauty of Our Earth (Poem Collection)
PoetryA poem collection to describe our mother Earth and the nature around us. Cover picture is royalty free image from (pexel.com).
