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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
This poem is talks about what happens during the evening but with a lot of metaphors.

Submitted: April 01, 2016

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Submitted: April 01, 2016



Outside the green grass rises up to its shame

knocking on the door of a tree crying for help.


The baby birds say their last chirp before the

crows come to tell them who's going to have

their last dream.


The night shadows guide the river to its mother

so it won't have to cry anymore.


Owls watch the feelings of the air drag the

last secret from the pot of light, caring for

it like a new born baby.


All the sounds surrender to the moon

leaving the night with one eye and

a glass.

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