Mows With Scythe Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

Mows With Scythe



‘Time passes, passes, passes
And mows with scythe
The gains you make turn
Losses, my Monsignor.’

‘But you exaggerate, sir, ’
Said my Monsignor:
‘You exaggerate and
Pessimistic sour’

‘First let me pessimistic
Sour; but then hear my words
There are burning swords
Increasing one by one with
Age and time:
And it be for you to see
Them
For old age so many
Cunning pitfalls has and makes’

Sunday, November 22, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: aging,life,mythology,night,time
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