Is It Poetry
Juicy Plumb's - Poem by Is It Poetry
One of those days,
it is hot.
Talking to myself,
I am not.
Ripe for the sun.
Where the bird's nest,
they use the same hole.
As it drips,
from the end of the day before.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You