On that night, we walked up the hill and you showed me something special. You stopped in your steps and pointed to the masterpiece above,
By VERIKA DILDY5 years ago in Poets
White and black, long, orange beaked, cold withstanding and enduring wobbling creatures on endless sheets of ice stretching as wide as time held in arms
If I were to create you a medley, where would I turn for inspiration? the birds that rejoice as the blessed gift of day that the sun
I was always known as the little, quiet girl. Many thoughts, but few words. Loud ideas, but quiet voice, barely audible to a mouse.
