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
Posted by at
Labels:

4 comments:

  1. nittylfcOctober 9, 2011 at 5:58 PM

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

    ReplyDelete
  2. SaraOctober 9, 2011 at 8:31 PM

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

    ReplyDelete
  3. ChloeOctober 11, 2011 at 5:53 AM

    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

    ReplyDelete
  4. SaraOctober 11, 2011 at 7:23 PM

    thanks for the lovely comment Chloe! :) xx

    ReplyDelete

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)