Puente form of poetry
He lays the foundation stone,
then poses for a snap
Near the large plot of land that
will be his future home
He distributes sweets to guests,
smiling but unaware that
He will never mature although he
may, in age, grow old
~He drops the axe at broken
earth, and claps his hands~
He runs to hide his face into his
mother’s lap
Tears cloud her eyes wrinkles
deepen on her face
She runs her fingers through his
hair and lets out a deep sigh
“What will happen to my dear child when I am no more”
“What will happen to my dear child when I am no more”
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