Swallow
By intheiceysky
Sat, 24 Nov 2012
- 240 reads
Motivation was, when learning to fly,
that one day I would touch the sky.
Is that cliché? I wanted to hear light,
taste touch, and even at that height
the security of my skill meant I’d feel no fright
Back then, I was little, insignificant, small
but that disadvantaged prevented my fall.
In Morse Code the rain tapped destinations
That independence gave me my elevation.
Yet now that I am older, feathers worn through,
Despite evolution, I’m now even lower than you.
The wings are damp, they beat no more.
Like my heart, like that injured bird you saw.
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