Nothing sadder than a doer....that just don't
Nothing captures like a canner who now can't
nothing wanton as a wanter who really won't
Nothing tells you lately how to feel inside
Just you know....you're late...you're late
All the goody has been got
You're not the getter any more
just the gate.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I wonder what an afterlife would grow into.....a carnation?