Hello, Internet! 'Tis me, Samantha.
I had an adventure today.
I am not that proud of my adventure. Let's just say it involved a bird.
Detail below the cut.
My Outdoors Outfit!
So I was outside with my big person. So this stupid bird decides to go, "BAWWK! BAWWK!" It was quite annoying to hear that when I was taking a nice walk. This was getting into my enjoying of the tiny peace, tiny relaxation of the realization of the beautiful, tiny leaves, calling for spring. Oh darn, time for me to write a poem.
The poetic leaves shivered from the slight cold,
they called for spring.
They have the tiniest hope,
Waiting for a summer long away.
They sit in a shadow, they dance in the day.
And the summer love only seems a sentence away.
What love is it that it always goes away?
Why do they disappear once winter owns the night and day?
I call for them, but then no grow.
I wonder why, like how a boat must row.
My head cannot understand
How we got to the fall of man,
Why do we hide inside,
Our eyes glued to the light inside?
What happened to idle chatter,
Or the careful watching of a leaf falling.
We seem to think time has stilled,
But it goes on outside our worlds.
I quietly wait for the poetic leaves to call to me,
But it seems I must call to them.
For the bane of our existence is not their fault,
But we can repair,
What once was man's rise.
And you see why I'm not allowed to write poetry on blogs. I could go much further.
But I am not that wrong.
I was talking with my big person, and Mr. Bawk the Bird was, well, bawking.
He pooped on my head!
I am fine now,
But curse that bird.