Memoir of ,

His grandfather’s,

A quiver of arrows,

Decorating the wall,

Sent a quiver through his back,

Every time he glanced.


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.


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