Our minds have become intimate with words.
We fly together like two paper birds.
Small creeks, big rivers and the mighty sea,
Sustains the lyrics of calligraphy.
My friend, the lamp of sunset lights the grass.
Leaves paint old panes with poems of stained glass.
Deft fingers pluck the lyre-strings of the heart.
Emotion is as beautiful as art.
Sandra Fowler's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Paper Birds by Sandra Fowler )
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
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