Where Birds Need Not Fly, by Frank Tavares
Buried under the soil of loneliness,
Simply a seedling waiting to grow,
I find myself reaching toward the surface
To a light that shines brighter than it does here.
Wingless under the stars of hope,
Simply a bird with clipped wings,
I find myself waiting for a plane that will never come
That would take me to a place more colorful.
Sailing on a windless sea,
Simply a sailor with no compass,
I find myself longing direction
To a place where birds need not fly.
© Copyright 2016 Frank Tavares. All rights reserved.