Written for:  The Sunday Muse #39


Seems we are the last
two left of our species.
Grasses have dried brown
and brittle. Yet, under
steel clouds, a hint
of gold–a sunset. Come,
do not be fearful. We will
start a new herd, and they
will be sturdy and smart.
We will not become extinct.


About purplepeninportland

I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York. My goal is to create and share poetry with others who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve in you, and feel your sparks as well.
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10 Responses to Lost

  1. Eddie says:

    Love the hope expressed here. I am sure they will go forth and multiply . . . 🙂


  2. Carrie V. H. says:

    Yes hope is surely carrying on here along with the zebras! This is lovely Sara!


  3. Vicki says:

    A hopeful poem indeed.


  4. pvcann says:

    Yes, hope, wonderful.


  5. wildchild47 says:

    cool twist – the intimacy of the voice …. surprising, – makes it worth the hope

    nice interpretation of the image Sara


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