The Partridge took
Half year to arrive
at this place
My heart.
There the nest he's made
A burning like this inside
A furnace in an organ
A bellow of a roof.
The Partridge escaped
Out a hole in the flue.
A letter sent by pigeon
No partridge to be seen.
A furious wind
Striking the Northern front frightened anguished flying North.
Will it last?
The pigeon senses which direction to fly.
But will it
Fly?
For something that could not be As thought?
The Partridge slips
Through the Trees
Gathering Nuts and other Berries.
You Awaken I do too
The grass outside Is growing green
A newborn partridge cheeps its first breath.
A lifestyle blog about the life of a young journalist and barista: homemade pastries, creative writing, and romance. Coffee tales sprinkled with cinnamon and the spices of life!
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