Is It Poetry
Found Things - Poem by Is It Poetry
How by one lost Thing,
I tried to sing again.
How this hand held brush,
does cry to paint the sky again.
How one winter night is filled with stars
one comes across the moon again.
How, I but oh, to come and go again.
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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