I swooped down,
To scoop up the unruly papers,
On the floor.
It was so windy,
These papers flew out the door.
I thought this paper arrangement,
Between them and I,
Seemed quaintly odd,
And I questioned why.
The ruffled papers,
Looked up to me,
Asking for some answers.
That I couldn't give.
And so the papers and I made the best of it.
We chased each other around in the wind in the trees.
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Comments about this poem (Papers by Vera Sidhwa )
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