You can sleep, sleep in my arms....
Like a baby bird.
Like a broom among brooms...
in a broom closet.
Like a tiny parrot.
Like a whistle.
Like a little song.
A song sung by a forest...
within a forest...
a thousand years ago.
(the unbearable lightness of being)
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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