Muse |
Muse |
The stars reflect in cat eyes that Ponder on, on their routine night prowl, And spy an owl in a cluster of its own Shiny feathers, oiled to diamond. Advancing like a ghost, a mere breeze Of machine rolls past in a whoosh of A lonesome, silent hush That, answered in calm calling, Trees in their dormant breathing Nod their head tops to; Those peacock hats. Breadcrumbs under the moon dot, From here to anywhere, following Their masters to a destination known By that North Star! Old map. Star-gazer. Patterns present themselves Seen, to those child join-dotters. Originally written in 2013, age 17
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AuthorSamantha is a doctoral researcher researching the power of figurative language in advertising, social media, and mobile technology. Copyright © 2022
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