With Almost No Rustling Sound Poem by Mary Angela Douglas
With Almost No Rustling Sound
with almost no rustling sound
oh golden my paper bird
folded its paper wings
I cannot fly it whispered shyly
only to me. I said:
I will inscribe you!
it began to rain.
oh why am I weeping
wondered my paper bird
almost aloud.
I said, half-proud,
you have become a poem.
mary angela douglas 14 august 2015
Wednesday, March 2, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: bird,poem,poetry
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9/19/2024 1:16:32 PM # 1.0.0.1119
