Now its getting warmer,
Leave behind your trauma.
It’s summer time,
Time to rhyme.
No more spring,
Leave that thing,
Now start to sing.
They may not last long,
Stop thinking it’s wrong.
Now I’ll get back to my summer,
Or my finger will get number.
4 Responses to “Summer”
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I like your rhyming poems. You must make sure that the last line of a rhyming poem makes sense though.
Its Not Like number 123 its number When your finger is swollen! And thank you for saying that!
Oh! Its Number like a swollen Finger
l love the bit NO more spring leave that thing 🙂