Tuesday, October 1, 2013

Flying North

Fly north, Little Bird
Out of these backwoods
Far from the sheltering arms
Of family and friends
To the cold, dark city
Where they don't care.
Stripping the good intentions
From your very soul.
It was what you wanted
It was what you needed
And now it's gone
Broken on the sidewalk 
Never to rise again. 

2 comments:

  1. well that's dreary - or is it just me?

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  2. The old adage, you never miss your water until the well runs dry... that seems to have been phrased for just such instances as this.

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