Whispers Of Freedom Poem by Kaffwin Dementis
Whispers Of Freedom
Sitting Quietly
Under a bridge,
A creek flows by
A leaf gently flows along.
So free.
Birds sing their songs
The wind picks up a bit.
The trees rustle.
To be free like the butterflies
Would be like magic.
But I must go soon.
Fate calls.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Topic(s) of this poem: magic
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8/29/2026 10:23:42 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
