The wind blows with all its might…
Trees swaying and bending, oh so tight
The cry of birds screeching with sorrow
Not knowing if they will have a home tomorrow…
The wind blows with all its might…
Trees swaying and bending, oh so tight
The cry of birds screeching with sorrow
Not knowing if they will have a home tomorrow…
A most beautiful poem, Amy. Short but packed with meaning.
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Thank you. I have never written poetry. On my blogging 101 assignment, we had to pick something that is different from are other posts. At first, I could not think of anything besides, “roses are red, violets are blue…lol.
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Lol! I can imagine. Just start and then you will see how you grow.
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“Not knowing if they will have a home tomorrow…” This is my favorite line of the poem. It makes me think of when I worked with rescued cats and kittens. We were always trying to get them adopted. I would fervently hope all the time that they would find a home the next day.
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We have been dealing with feral cats lately. There have been some in our area, so my neighbors have put out food and shelter for them. With the cold weather, I am always hoping they find a warm place to sleep.
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