atiguhya padma
03-16-2005, 07:14 AM
When I was a small child
In my eager haste
To taste the final sweet
I’d drop the wrapper
In the clean tree-lined street
My mother would say
Her voice tired and bitter
Now how many times
Have I told you AP
Not to drop litter?
And as the autumn leaves
Fell down from their trees
I’d run, hurry along
And the world would feel
All so terribly wrong
In my eager haste
To taste the final sweet
I’d drop the wrapper
In the clean tree-lined street
My mother would say
Her voice tired and bitter
Now how many times
Have I told you AP
Not to drop litter?
And as the autumn leaves
Fell down from their trees
I’d run, hurry along
And the world would feel
All so terribly wrong