Clipped Wings

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Birds in Flight

 

Like a little parakeet, her body soft, her beauty sweet

She takes her water and her bread, never hungry before she’s fed

She sings a song that’s all her own within the cage that is her nest

 

Oh for freedom’s rarest gift, she’d forsake the safety

Of her wired home, to seek that which the wild bird knows

Light her feet upon sand or bruise her wings in foreign lands,

 

Enjoy the company of another to fly away before she smothered;

If destiny did not bound her to the sky, she’d seek the heavens for to fly,

Touch back down when need be, to remind herself that she is free

 

Perched upon a beaded swing, her world a little house so fine

Sings a tune pretty to every ear, but sad the melody of her mind

 

 

(photo credit: <a href=”https://www.flickr.com/photos/thomashawk/5581519819/”>Thomas Hawk</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;)

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