Adele Poem by Nassy Fesharaki
Adele
Adele
Her voice sounds Inuit's
She has voice of a knife
Her knife is made of ice.
And she sings icicles
Drops them on our heads
Words cut in all the way to liver
We love them, pay, listen and digest
Nothing of a lyric we leave out; as if life.
What is wrong with our world?
She laughs and has her fun
We've cried to her shout
Knowingly delivered
Standing in a line;
We purchase.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/26/2024 11:11:57 PM # 1.0.0.1119
