The roses bloomed, the sun shined.
She was in the prison.
The window was in front of her,
the bars were behind.
She never touched the dewdrops,
she didn't know how long she had to stay
confined.
22 September 2020
YOU ARE READING
Poetry is Immortal
PoetryPeople die, poetry does not. Here's a poetry collection... #rhyme RANK #527 in poetry on 15 November 2020 #517 in poetry on 18 November 2020 Started publishing - 15 October 2020
