On Filling In Forms
The rain is falling
Like forms to be filled
Incessant and pointless
As fields untilled
Yet rain has a purpose
Like mother to child
The two become one
New and beguiled
But forms are endless
Dull and repeated
The rain forest weeps
Her children depleted
And where does it end
On a shelf without smile
All that torment
Entombed in a file
No comments:
Post a Comment