The Last Squawk


 

 

 

 

 

Thread of sound, whistle prints on mind,

Gnaws like word from such ring can fall;

Touch apart, broken one may find

Wheeling echo of that sad call.

© June 2017 Colonialist
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About colonialist

Active septic geranium who plays with words writing fantasy novels and professionally editing, with notes writing classical music, and with riding a mountain bike, horses and dinghies.
This entry was posted in Colonialist, Poems, Rhyme, Wordle and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to The Last Squawk

  1. You killed off the parrot! 😥

    Like

  2. Tom Merriman says:

    Aw. Sad, Col.
    But good as well! 🙂

    Like

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