Poem -
colours of land
Tis as if things
Are made for other things
Like the moon
Who makes a bed in the sky
Or the colours of land
When the sailors fly high
Or shadows on rooftops
Who come to say hi
To fledgelings, at dawn time
When sun is still shy
But we weary of rooftops
For what of their use?
Cracked tiles and sad ones
Things that grow loose
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And fall down
M ~
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Comments
As usual great metaphor, we need to be kinder and more thoughtful, things are much more fragile than we see with our eyes, at least sometimes. Beautiful heart you do have in your poetry dear Marion, one of my true favourite poets you are
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Wow!! I am really touched by your comment, compliment and deep understanding of these words Shirley,
Know that I treasure your very generous words 💞
A brill title and an absolutely smashing bit o poetry Marion x
Thankyou ...hugs X
and back at ya x
Dear Marion, bash a nail or two on that cracked tile. Maybe the tile is useful. For the nail.
Stay well. Love, B
Thankyou my lovely friend...you too x
❤️❤️❤️