N.P.W.M. Day 9

The Egg

An egg in a chicken coup.

An egg in a carton.

An egg in a store.

An egg in a car.

An egg in a refrigerator.

An egg in my hand.

It flies up, tumbling over and over,

twisting towards the floor,

when I catch it in my hand,

and send it upwards again.

 

This poem was inspired by juggling. I am starting a new hobby, the hobby being juggling. It’s going well; I think I will be able to start using eggs, which is why I wrote this poem.

Even closer to 1,000 views!

~Aidy

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