(Free google image)

His hat hung just above the tiled brow.

Formerly he wore his best,

High altered pursuit -Ivory Grey

Drinking -dusty winds

Perching, gently its blue-ish bill.

Practicing his craft on human-rubbish

Gliding his hallowed cry – eeeer.

Against  ghetto ‘s, sand-dunes,war zones and cliffs too 

Robotic faces shhing  feathered hands

 still on he came,

Proudly, shaking the bear,

Resiliently, greeting lion cubs,

Flying parallel with each blustery storm.

Protected by the universe, Mr. Sea Gull.

Today I did not follow the prompt, I’ve gone my own way. I meet a beautiful friend today and thought I’d share my feelings. National Poetry is coming to a close.I felt much pressure writing. I’ve enjoyed each fresh rhythmic line. I have much to be thankful for. Writing is my water,my glass-slippers to the ball.My healing. Writing is my friend. All Rights Reserved 2015.

Please check out NaPoWriMo here for today’s prompt if you like:

Day Twenty-Nine