Blue,
The background,
Black,
The birds,
Crows,
Three sit on a wire,
One flies away,
To the pine tree.
Two join,
Trilling their new found gossip,
They heard it from a little birdie.
YOU ARE READING
Your Heart is My Harp
PoezjaYour heart is my harp. With my poems, I'll try and show you how I pluck the strings. I'll try and pluck the strings of your heart, Creating happiness and joy and laughter with these poems. They're just silly little ones, but maybe, just maybe, they...
