Thursday, October 6, 2011

The box of pencils in front of me,
So varying in its shades,
Like the moulting birds of spring,
Basking in their glades 

The breeze does not ruffle their feathers,
For they know the routine,
The seasons come and go,
Wiping the slate clean


  1. Woo hoo more poems! Love all your poems Sara (:

  2. Thanks Nitty! <3 you have an account now, you should blog too! :D

  3. Hi Sara, I've just been reading through your lovely poems - you write so eloquently and so beautifully!

    I can't wait to keep coming back and seeing what else you have to say / write :-)

    Chloe xxx

  4. thanks for the lovely comment Chloe! :) xx