Bird flies by when I look outside.
Carefree, the only weight is its wings. The bird
doesn’t know all the hope it carries on it’s feathered wings and yet it
flies over the
Grand Canyon to the
high mountain tops. The world places all their escapist thoughts
little creature who happens to be gifted with the
much wanted almost
needed aspiration to fly.
Oh, so much
promise is placed
quietly in the
to only be able to fly away.
Up in the
vast open sky is
X-target seems to always lay.
You, dear bird, fly with
zeal for everyone places their’s on you.