Little Sprite

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Little Sprite

Little sprite
engulfed in gold
fluttered high
shivered in cold
drifted low
snuggled in grass
joyful life like
this is passed

Little sprite
dressed in green
lightly climbs
blue steps unseen
the air her chair
holds her nigh
toes exposed
why ask why?

Little sprite
flushed in red
rushes close
to hug her friend
four eyes be
a bright sunset
play at work
is life at best

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Poetry is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality.

T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

SecretAngel3’s Poems (41)

Title Comments
Title Comments
I Am Ugly 0
Dear Dufus 0
Fragile People 0
The Hunt for Delectable Expression 3
Take My Heart 1
Mini Poem Series: Entry 4 0
All About Joe 0
The Stone Ones 0
Imperfect 0
Beautiful Morning 1
How Water Hurts 0
Misfortune 1
Neutralizatio
n
0
The Dream Me 0
Can a brighter day inspire me? 0
Last Hope 0
In My Hands 1
The Power of God 1
Their Sting Fills Me with Poison 1
Mini Poem Series: Entry 3 0
Tale of a Maiden 1
Mini Poem Series: Entry 2 0
Mini Poem Series: Entry 1 0
Regretful Realizations 0
Spread the Love 0
Little Sprite 0
At Last, Avenged 0
Food for Thought 0
Elusion 0
Strength 0
The Hunter and The Woman 0
Calling 1
Confidence 2
Which Apple I Love 0
My Heart's Pain 1
Lost at Home 1
Somber Icy Spectacle 1
HATS AWAY_ 1
Meet You In Heaven 1
Sickening Stage 0
Cafe Cliche 0