Sonnet to Maturity
Will you return to me, Boomerang I throw
Away from me in anticipation.
Of your quick return I have yet to know,
But it shall to the unfortunate one.
Facing the dark forest of no return,
He knows nothing of his dangerous fate.
With a toy as a boy he used to yearn
For, while playing, surrounded by the gate.
He stands now unaware of the future,
Of the thwacking he will shortly recieve,
Oh how I wish the young lad would mature,
He is still the wee bairn she did concieve,
Wam! but, no crying now nor grimacing
The boy stood unshaken and unflinching.
This poem is about:
Me
Our world
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