Ханни замурлыкала - какое же это все - таки было удовольствие... Разве что - то может быть лучше, того что бы раскрыть ароматно пахнущий пакет с кофейными зернами и окунутся в терпкие карамельные запахи кофе...
How much do you expect?
From us?
From me?
Do you honestly expect us to write a poem?
In half an hour?
Of course, due to the lose interpretation of what poetry actually means I think I’ll find this very easy and not particularly challenging at all, look this is my poem already.
You never said it had to be remotely

(Or did you?)


Loss of the english teacher.
by ~MissLibbely

Oh how I wish,
I could write or read,
With you now gone,
My life still proceeds.

The reason for my perfect grammar,
The stanzas and the rhyme,
Now that you left without us,
This poems beats out of time.

The verses are a mess,
Teardrops dripping on the page,
I am sitting here, and wishing,
You had lived to an older age.

But now the pages are torn,
And all the ink is smudged,
You'd watch me from up above,
And see I haven't even budged.

So I live on today,
With muses inside of me,
But no way to write the poem or song,
All words now sang out of key.

This is dedicated to my favourite english teacher, who I recently lost. The narrator talks about losing the ability to read or write now the person has left, like when you don't have an english teacher, you wouldn't understand english.

@темы: а в ответ тишина