
The common crow : My uncommon friend| Poem by Anooja, 13, Sharjah
Early as the morning rises, I stare at the windowsill. My best friend she is, The one who lives. Flashing those cunning white eyes, My
Early as the morning rises, I stare at the windowsill. My best friend she is, The one who lives. Flashing those cunning white eyes, My
Your friend, Sara here. It’s great to be good at something but gloating about it? That’s not nice, is it? Here’s a story by 8 year old Aruna Gowri Shankar, a Bookosmian from Chennai, about a proud crow who learns his lesson!
Early as the morning rises, I stare at the windowsill. My best friend she is, The one who lives. Flashing those cunning white eyes, My
Your friend, Sara here. It’s great to be good at something but gloating about it? That’s not nice, is it? Here’s a story by 8 year old Aruna Gowri Shankar, a Bookosmian from Chennai, about a proud crow who learns his lesson!
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