The Circle - Poem by Donald Yates
A circle is a round thing with no start or end
It could never be a straight line because it has a bend.
Sometimes it has no center it's just filled with air
And setting on your plate with frosting it looks fair.
Upon your car it carries you gently down the road
Always humming merrily with its' precious load.
In the sky the lovers watch it beaming down
Drifting through the treetops to gently touch the ground.
They even made a hoop of it for girls and boys to use
And as a Frisbee thrown in the wind its' and easy thing to loose.
Most circles are joyous things on this I agree
There's one I want to warn of I hope that you will see.
It's the one that every day men and women live
From home to job and back again to nothing else they give.
If you find that your life is starting to go round
Take the Master's highway it's straight it's sure it's sound.
Comments about The Circle by Donald Yates
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You