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Survival
(3 July 1871 – 26 September 1940 / Monmouthshire / Wales)

Survival

Poem By Akhtar Jawad

A week ago I had a fire
To warm my feet, my hands and face;
Cold winds, that never make a friend,
Crept in and out of every place.

Today the fields are rich in grass,
And buttercups in thousands grow;
I'll show the world where I have been--
With gold-dust seen on either shoe.

Till to my garden back I come,
Where bumble-bees for hours and hours
Sit on their soft, fat, velvet bums,
To wriggle out of hollow flowers.

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Comments (1)

I 😍 this poem as I am born in june


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