Jingle. Jangle.
July 24, 2015
Jingle.
Jangle.
Is the sounds his pockets made,
With each quick stride the music he shaped.
Jingle.
Jangle.
What a glorious tune!
The little girl marched to every afternoon.
Jingle.
Jangle.
Is the song heard through the years,
Until the day that ended most drear.
Jingle.
Jangle.
Is all she can hear,
When she thinks of her daddy,
Who fought her fears.
0 snaps·3 views
View on Power Poetry →