I flushed my legs daring the cold
The bus had stopped and skies were gold
My feet became pedals cycling
But slow repelled by winds blowing
My dress was like wet sandy hair
And limbs began shrinking in air
I knew to wait was not a choice
Or night shall come with woeful voice
Approached I home in proud relief
Then threw a smile towards the thief
Behind me now inside the past
What sweet success I saw at last!
A Journey On Flooded Ways
Fatimah Bint Abdil Alim
(C) All Rights Reserved. Poem Submitted on 07/17/2019
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Poem topics: hair, home, night, smile, success, voice, sweet, wait, cold, choice, gold, relief, slow, dress, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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