Free As A Crow

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
As it says on the metaphorical tin.

Submitted: January 14, 2012

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Submitted: January 14, 2012

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The eyes are dark pools of feral intensity, lost in their own world of freedom and uncorrupted life,

The wings move silently through the air, their long tips cutting through the wind, trouble-free,

The heart ticks fast, each beat young and healthy, full of honesty,

It has no need for money, no need for false happiness, no need for acceptance,

When the crow lands on a bench, its senses are sharp and invigorated,

As it preens, the smell of pollution floats through the air, and it stings,

The crow flies away.

Away from the pollution, away from the city.


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