Sad Nose Poem by Aleksandar Sasha Trajkovski

The story for the sad nose,
little teary and moist,
starts usually morning every,
And on the end of
hash golgota, but every,
spiced with some strange salt spacy,
ending with the same end
and the same way.
The nose of the baby,
barely with whisper says to us,
that carries heavy weight of hot bags,
of bright springs
and salty reavers.
And noone is dearing to carry,
from the cry which like a storm,
all in front of him cuts,
even the donkey refuses to carry,
with hooves nude and bare.
For scent magic of salt,
with some schade odd.
of colour yellow,
nor great nose of wolf,
does not dare to swallow.
And there is no carriage that can drives,
that load which its own scent can proudly wears.
So the story for the nose sad,
the hero our, important and dared,
Wisely and in glory ended
In granny's handkerchief
Scentsy and humid.