Thursday, July 29, 2021

That is How

The wind, she whips.

The leaves, they dance.

The gulls, they swoop.

The pups, they prance.

 

The clouds, they loom.

The waves, they slap.

The boats, they glide.

The birds, they flap.

 

The time, it ticks.

The thoughts, they flow

And that is how

A poem does grow.

1 comment: