I’m a beautiful yellow creature,
I live on the field with my family.
We aren’t something they care for,
Alot of us die daily.
Tom’s family are on the field every evening,
They come to cut,destroy and step on us.
They leave us grieving
Some resurrect while some turn to dust.
A family came,they were called “John Bull”
They were happy being in our midst.
A girl picked me and say “you are beautiful”
Then I drop a tear of joy on her wrist.
Even though I die tomorrow brutally,
I will do so happily
Because someone atleast acknowledge my beauty,
She took my pictures,i’m till eternity.
I’m a poet,i make fixtures real on note,my mind there in is the words and my blood the ink
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