I stood in front of a little wooden box
Mellow at first touch,
And coarse by the next
Curious, I slid open its crest.
It had two pairs of glasses
One rimmed with a golden frame
The other all rotten and rust
I decided, that try them I must.
Essays of a Wandering Mind!
I stood in front of a little wooden box
Mellow at first touch,
And coarse by the next
Curious, I slid open its crest.
It had two pairs of glasses
One rimmed with a golden frame
The other all rotten and rust
I decided, that try them I must.