`poplars` Related Article Results

Some from poverty, some from fearlessness... I cannot say to my own rooms, “It has always been this way since creation.” If I called it a cave, it would be calmer, If it weren’t a house, it would be easier to leave. How much I wished to knock on the doors within me And be able to say, “Nothing’s wrong, just the wind blew.” From haste, I murmur one after another the few songs my mother taught me; I get stuck on one, like a scratched record; The song says, “Poplars,” I know, this is a poem, Is it