'There are people around,
This orb we call home,
That live all abound,
And to go see, I'll have to roam.
Some live in the U.S.,
Others over the vast waters,
And with some, I must confess,
I would to have with some, sons and daughters.
But enough of the wishful thoughts,
For I shall try for him again,
In hopes of, in love, be caught,
So here's to love, my friend.'
Comments about this poem (Friends About by Xielgnihhan Amasahdympaehk )
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
William Ernest Henley
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings