It’s funny how our minds work.

When I was in fourth grade, we had a poetry reading and we each had to memorize a poem and read it to our class. I chose a random poem by Emily Dickinson that I thought sounded nice. The poem compared hope to a bird and, to this day, I still remember the first and last verses.

I just find it funny that I can remember a poem from 9 years ago but I can barely remember what day it is.

Hope is a thing with feathers

That perches in the soul

And sings a song without the words

And never stops at all.


I’ve heard it in the strangest land

And on the wildest sea

But never in extremity

Did it ask a crumb of me.


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