Iron Poet, Round XIII.
Welcome to the latest round of Iron Poet, the game where you give me three words and I give you a poem. This is an adaptation of a standard writer's workshop activity, and I do not claim the original concept. I just claim to enjoy doing it
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It's great to see you doing this again!
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Said she never had to worry about
Losing it at night;
Said it had something to do
With the way light reflects,
The way eyes see color in the dark.
"Everything is gray, but orange
Is just a little grayer than the rest."
I never understood her,
And I miss her every day.
She said she was a penguin:
A flightless bird that could be
Broken-hearted by its limitations,
Or could be at peace with its
Stubby wings that would never soar,
Webbed feet that would never leap,
Pudgy belly that would never slim.
"I'm going where I can fly,"
She said, and, "You always wanted
To be a falconer," she said,
And she left me,
And she's never coming back.
Here is the secret I was too young,
Too stupid-wise to understand:
Everyone's a penguin, and she
Was the only sky
I ever had.
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Also, my friend crash-mccormick, who I showed it to, said to tell you how awesome he thinks you are -- he's right!
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