• 20nikki17 9w

    Dawns come with birds and their strains
    Dusks when they return to their place.
    Between them stands time in gaze
    Poring at the toils in make.
    Together, they fly and trill in flock
    Apart they have these, halt and block.
    Time comes when they return home
    To nestle and sing the tales of roam
    Like birds who drift to come back again
    I wish our flight would, like flocks, remain.