picture by rhoda penmarq
. the bird was severely wounded it needed no food and no water no medicine and no shelter all those who watched its flights or listened to its songs left except an artist who painted it with its wings wide open soaring in the blue sky he knew a dying bird only wanted to be remembered in its flight .  |
5 comments:
Thanks as always, human being - another wonderful poem. You say a lot in a few words.
Word.
thanks dear Old Peter and dear Dan Leo for reading my words...
And thanks for writing them, human.
:)
what else can i do if i don't?
;)
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