Polish Flowers

A box with paints from childhood's time:
The colors of town are earth and grime.
An old worker at a dark doorway squats,
The spuds in his bowl are powdery dry.
It's a face of yellowish and gray spots
In the midst of hunger, cold, dirt and slime.

Julian Tuwim The copyright of the poems published here are belong to their poets. Internetpoem.com is a non-profit poetry portal. All information in here has been published only for educational and informational purposes.