Wednesday, May 18, 2016

Every morning, how she comes*

Every morning, how she comes*

Every morn, how she comes
To bathe, at the fountain,
Sparkling waters how to flutter
With her wings, dipping her pout,
Into the fountain, as she dances
In the little pool.

(*Note: the photograph attached is Taken by me, for poesy)

No comments:

Post a Comment

The State Funeral

At least they have given her The State Funeral With tongue cut,  She could not have spoken for  The rare award,  The police have done the th...