Flight ~

“If you’re bird, I’m a bird…”

Drew a bad picture
Thinking it would help me so
To imagine it was majestic
And it had golden wings.
I was it
And it was me
We flew free.
I looked at the flower
That now is dead;
In my head
Its petals were birds
And I stood in the corner
Wishing I was them.
My wings seem clipped
My flight seems chained
But as I drew this
All my worries flew away.
How strange!
In the morning hour
All I could think
Was a tiny bird
With golden flowery wings
As minutes pass
Reality woke the hour.



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