The Thrush Poem by Peter S. Quinn
The Thrush
In the garden,
There is this tree
With a thrush in.
He keeps on singing,
His songs of hope.
Like you and I,
He's missing someone,
Therefore can not fly,
When there's sun.
We have same reasons,
For being sad,
If we have lost a love,
We likewise had.
In the garden,
There is this tree
With a thrush in.
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4/18/2024 6:16:44 PM # 1.0.0.1119
