ladyreck67
Feb 16, 2018

Peace my Little Bird

1 comment

 

 

It comes with peace this silent age,

With an angry heart and teeth clenched in rage.

So, how so peace would it be if anger holds?

Wrath unkind, mellow, a love to unfold.

 

Silence. Upon the world to the top arise,

Smile intent with a new pair of eyes.

Fly the morrow, let the day pass unhurried,

Be at peace my little bird. No longer worry.

 

© Cynthia Clark

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