The Deer

I stop. A deer, dark and wise, stares at me with scared bright eyes. It’s a windy night, quite a fright, but the deer stares right at my headlight. I blink. He won’t move. Foolish deer, risking his life, just to stare at my headlights. I honk, annoyed, staring at me he seems to enjoy. The noise scares him, and he runs off, never again to be seen.

This poem is about: 
Our world

Comments

Kd_wholewhale

I lIked how you described the deers overall how you felt to see/ what the deer really be doing . Good!

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741