Morning Dew

Learn more about other poetry terms

  The partridge swings happily in the tree, For some reason it cannot see, The death day is drawing near, And the partridge doesn't show fear, A cat awaits from afar,
Your words sound as sweet as the morning dew and yet thy words play with my gentle heart too innocent to unveil what flew through thy humbling failures cast us apart   A small bird I am doth sing my tune
Subscribe to Morning Dew