Please, wont you help?
I cant do this alone.
I've worked my self to the bone.
Can you help tonight,
Will you show me to the light?
Please, please this my plea,
Show me that you care for me!
A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.
Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.
OneWho’s Poems (4)
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
|---|---|---|
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
| My Love | 0 | 02/24/2010 |
| Please, wont you help? | 0 | 01/05/2010 |
| Gone, again. | 0 | 01/03/2010 |
| Truth | 1 | 01/03/2010 |
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