On the boulevard of memories
Crossing a silent zone
A flock of white birds
Dropped feathers on my shoulder
Intermeaning the sequels of past.
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I brushed them immediately
But one tiny quill got stuck in my collar
He was exquisite, soon he was rescued
Now he lives in my diary, forever
Each day his silver touch inspires my imagination.























Comments: 52
Thanks for posting to Secret Sisters
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Thanks for posting to Short Story and More!
Have a nice one:)
Still the poem moves me...
it was exquisite and soon was rescued
lives in my diary
each day that silver touch...
Thank you so much for reading,Jan. hugs!
I love you and respect your artistic ability and sensitivity.
thanks . . . . .