Memoir of ,
His grandfather’s,
A quiver of arrows,
Decorating the wall,
Sent a quiver through his back,
Every time he glanced.
He,
Wasn’t courageous to,
Let his family know,
He had different interests and,
They wouldn’t be right to ask,
A fish to fly.
Acknowledgements :- Written in response to quadrille #90. The word for the week is quiver and a poem has to be composed in exactly 44 words. For rules please refer here. Thank you all for stopping by and reading.
“wouldn’t be right to ask/A fish to fly”
I’m struck, and touched, by this. Everyone is so different, and should be celebrated as such.
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Thanks a lot for stopping by and also the compliments 🙂
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