I think that I shall never see,
A poem lovely as a tree,
A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breasts
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair
Upon whose bosom snow has lain
Who intimately lives with rain
Poems are made by fools like me
But only God can make a tree.
~ Joyce Kilmer
Penalize your friends & foes:
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Published by Smita Ray
Smita Ray is a mother of two lovely kids and hails from the northeastern town of India Gorakhpur. Her perpetual displeasure arising from the hypocrisy in the society underneath the semblance of religion, culture as well as the conditioning for compliance urged her to put down the impressions in her mind. In her spare time, she likes to have some culinary adventures with her kids.
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