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Rated: E · Poetry · Contest Entry · #1685966
entry for "A Little Bit of Poetry" contest.....when I tremble at night
I leave

Beneath the strawberry moon
my fears, anxieties,
inklings and wonderings
become small birds
trembling in my hand.

There is a nest
at the doorstop
made of moss, twigs, regrets.

I leave my hatchlings there
knowing that tiny birds
small souls
are meant to fly.

12 lines
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1685966