Nest Poem by john tiong chunghoo
Nest
it smells stale like fish rotting in the drain
a mishmash of of straws from streets here and there
put together in a hurry the fasion of a frantic chase for love
and feathers a latter addition, they stuck onto the straws
starched by leftovers of food, of love, affection and faeces
here and there, little furry feathers orchestrate a dance
heralding a dream that has grown and flown away
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/25/2024 7:15:14 AM # 1.0.0.1119
