I can be sown but not with thread
I’m only useful when I’m dead
I have many ears but can’t hear
I have hair but only on my ears
When I’m old you cut off my head
And grind my ears to make your bread
I don’t have legs yet still I stand
And though I wave I have no hands
One response to “Riddle”
what a lovely poem! I love this. So emotional. It almost makes me cry…
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