Richter Scale Poem by Shirley Harrison
Richter Scale
I used to know a Nightingale
sometimes she would sit on my windowsill and I'd imagine
shooting her dead
because her music reminded me
of who I once was
other times like today
I'd imagine she would sit there
just so I could hear her sing
like in the old days.
Saturday, August 22, 2026
Topic(s) of this poem: grief
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8/22/2026 2:56:02 PM # rel_20260813T193622Z_3aad590
