Poetry

Wars and breads…


Feed our hearts and hatchets buried.


Sing in chorus song as any.


Choke with cherry all are fruits.


Roads and senses are drive so good.





Laagers bounds are battle pitches.


Pitch and tosses are pitches to each.


Milks and breads will need to fight.


Means of breads are days and nights.





Wars and breads are not for pure.


Hails of bullets all are hills.


Land of pure as how are home.


Wars are bad are china rooms.





---------Cheung Shun Sang=Cauchy3----------