Little Squirrelly
Frantic squirrel
Upon new fallen snow
My thoughts of you,
Scurrying to go,
I see you,
Squirrel so small
Looking for what,
Food to go,
No fast foods
In your world,
Ground covered cold
Your toes are curled.
Today you run.
You are free.
Tonight I sit
Wondering of thee,
Frantic I am
No squirrel to be
For me, my life
Is life a scam?
Written by me Cecil Hickman
In Memory and Honor of William Blake's poetry
Copyright © Cecil Hickman | Year Posted 2010
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