Untitled (poem in the style of Emily Dickinson)
It's always black
When the sun drops down
Until the stars attack
The unaware sky
The moon creeps out
Leaving the blocking cloud
With the night now lit up
The crickets jump in a crowd
No violas, No violins
Only one instrument
The cricket’s crick
Music better than an orchestra
Everything good must end
And the frog knows this well
Some crickets flee, others defend
The crickets left to die in the end
poem by Claude Davis III
Added by Poetry Lover
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