WINDOW:
Watch the birds come at dawn.
Picking grubs from the lawn.
And I give out a yawn.
It’s now tomorrow.
Then the sun gives a shout.
With it’s arms reaching out.
And I have all my doubt.
Or is it sorrow.
Through the glass when I peer.
I see the clouds turn to fear.
That’s when I disappear.
From the shadow.
As I walk away though.
It may rain or even snow.
Either way I have to go
Outside my window.
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This entry was posted on November 5, 2009 at 11:16 AM and is filed under poetry, Uncategorized with tags Autumn, echos, oregon, Poems, poetry, realms, writing. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
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