A Singe Poem by Liza Sud
A Singe
Today I burned my hand:
Your mouth was too hot.
On the wrist - a red scar,
It cries, and pains, and hurts.
And in the middle of it -
A trace is from the pan,
Your mouth was too hot
Enticed, its ring was loud.
The smell came suddenly,
The schnitzel slightly burned.
I ran and - got a singe!
One shouldn't rage and brawl.
Sunday, February 16, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: cooking
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Best Poems
Best Member Poems
Best Classical Poems
New Poems
New Poets
Best Member Poets
Best Classical Poets
Explore Poems
Explore Poets
Poem Of The Day
Love Poems
Baby Poems
Death Poems
Sad Poems
Birthday Poems
Wedding Poems
Nature Poems
Sorry Poems
Hero Poems
Poetry E-Books
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/19/2024 1:19:16 AM # 1.0.0.1119
