Tell her why my skin does fly,
Lifted above rims of pain.
Jolted, and squeezed,
thus wrangled glass,
I’d sing beating my cow drums with my thumbs.
Heaving low and high,
The cicadas on Cicero,
Blackbirds,
Caged birds,
Little birds like me
Scanting,
Let the dew catch her blade of grass.
Watch the wind whirls her summer’s haze
Tell my sister,
She knows why I sing.
The hints of Maya Angelou, the deep integrity of your own poetic muse.
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I’m honored and humbly blessed by your words thank you. Have beautiful weekend with care Krissy
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Two words, ooooh weee!
This echoes.
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awe gosh thank you kindly Shunpwrites Have a wonderful weekend blessings with care Krissy…
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Amen, Sister! I know why you sing!
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thank you sister Ashe’ Happy Sunday -and a wonderful week ahead 🙂
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