Come Poem by Ahmed Maiwada
Come
Come, wave your wings over my fire;
Wave them low, for you are cold.
Not one feather withhold;
Wage wing wars; build my red spire.
I hear those feathers whisper '...expire.'
What water does that caution hold:
Till you scale this ice-cube world,
Tomorrow's flight do not aspire.
Sunday, November 24, 2013
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4/24/2024 11:30:05 PM # 1.0.0.1119
