Walking across the meadow.
Taking in the beauty.
Guiding the lambs through the shadow,
for it is my duty.
Skipping across the field.
I mustn't be a slob.
I'll be the cattle's shield,
for it is my job.
Running across the grass.
The animals I shall save.
I'll be in a cast,
if I am not brave.
Pause to take a breath.
"It will be your head,"
Ted, the farmer, said,
"If the sheep are dead."
YOU ARE READING
Identity I
PoetryA sequence of poems I made throughout the years. Just something to read when you're bored (I recommend "TIME" and "LOVE POEM?"). If you're looking for emotional, try "SLOUGH" or "ENDS MEAT."
