outdoors – poetpri

The Painter

Photocopied trees circle me,And I feel as though I am being painted,As though a far away brush has brought us all into existence– Then a child runs too carelessly,falls on their face,And the painting is slightly torn.

Robin

A little poem about a little bird🐦🐦
Enjoy! 🙂

Old Man

Sometimes I like to compare myself to an old man. Note how I did not say old woman – for old women have a special quality to them which old men do not: you can see it if you brush away the dust, buried inside them is a treasure chest where pearls of wisdom remain.Continue reading “Old Man”