Along the dusty plains of old,
A land most lost and feared.
Through the long and distant cold,
Lived a creature most revered.
Across the river he would swim,
Every single day.
To see if in this place so grim,
His master'd come back out to play.
He whimpered to the setting sun,
And to the falling snow.
It seemed that ninety years begun,
His everlasting sorrow.
3/23/2016
YOU ARE READING
Poems, or Whatever
Poetrya place for me to keep track of the poems i write, mostly for school, some not - some of these are several years old, oops
