Self-reliant breeds,
that since the early ages
have nested in the reeds and rushes
of the river banks.
Taking with no thanks
but as a due,
the few
crumbs offered by those,
whose pleasure lies
in the beauty, and pose
of condescension,
and affectation of interest.
But lest you assume
them bound to you,
a blink, a ruffled plume
smoothed to perfection,
and the reflection
of graceful disdain
restored, remain
a silent show
of superb indifference.
the background for this poem was taken from this website - check it out! http://www.santarosa.edu/~tmurphy/texture.html
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