Song Birds
P
Peter S. Quinn
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I shall not forget your song,
You who paint with words;
A poem that comes along,
Like those little summer birds.
That no one could be without,
Yet they are weak and small;
And never aloud they shout,
Just sweetly to you they call.
Blessed by putting these words,
Together as a one whole;
Are you - just like summer birds,
- Like them you have a role.
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