Not many people have mattered to me
it’s like they were birds
that landed and took-off.
Ugly ducklings become Swans
Sometimes Swans, get their heads cut off
or they grow old and grey.
Birds are lighter than the wind
They move through fate
like soaring angels
that transcend the earth
until their bones break
like Icarus
falling, from the sun.
I am the birdman
the crows are demons outside my window
landing in the pine trees
full of needles.
I collect feathers
and use them
to fly
but not far
Just to know, I can do it—
that I’m not, just a man.
When I walk into assisted living
I see my aunt
smiling in her bed
eating chocolates
and watching Bonanza.
She is a happy old bird
We talk about my trips to Europe and South America.
I went down to Mexico, myself,” she said.
“Was that with your husband?” My mother asked.
“Yes. I still have my dog. Flash is 500 years old.”
“Oh—”
I rather like my aunt. She’s full of stories.
When I flew back home
I watched a movie
about a writer
who drank himself to death.
He was a genius.
I can’t fly through fate, yet
So, I run along the beach
as fast as I can
trying to take-off.
The people who matter to me
fly close to the sun.
I want to join them.
It’s easy to believe, and next to impossible to fly
Jump off a barn, and you will probably break your leg
but
Most people never jump.
Amazing flight of fancy, truly, despite my stupid pun…
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Hey, thanks for reading and commenting Maria!!! Welcome to my blog! 🙂
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Thanks for the welcome! Tx for subscribing! 🤓
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