Westward Poem by Piccola Topo Gigio

Westward



I hear their chatter as they fly by.
I listen and follow their retort,
As if guided by a blind eye.

They are talking to me,
And I know, I should not forget.
You see?

West!
We fly, west.
Always, always west!

Thursday, December 29, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: migration
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