February
Clear, cold and blue,the tiny birdhouse swings
shadows onto the lap fencing,
watching it fade
disappointed by clouds,
smiling as it reinvents
its' worth,
a simple promise of
warmth and life.
Poetry by shells
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Written on 2013-02-18 at 18:35
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Ferenc Inigo Beck |
John Ashleigh |
Texts |
by shellsLatest textsReflectionFall and Rise Silent Self Unsettled Taking Control |
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