I

I am like a bird
Left in the mist alone
I am like a rose that are
Died dreams you don't  dream
Any more when anyone says
Food I think of candy

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A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

ajbella’s Poems (24)

Title Comments
Title Comments
“HOME” 0
“BEING MAD” 0
the day i lost you 0
my mommy 0
MOM 0
hate 0
the other child 0
untitled 0
I miss you 0
the worse days 0
mommy 0
momma 0
missing mom 0
never 1
out cast 1
Sky 0
come home to me 0
I am 1
A Rose Bush For Mom 0
Can You Hear? 0
Mother 0
Wild Child -4
I 0
missing you 0