Little bird, little bird

A feather, left behind a trail to beyond and unknown. The world looks scary at first but little do we know the little bird is growing up. The High and lows of life hit you like waves in the ocean. I'll lay here next to you in the nest and for the rest of the days I'll be with you when you're ready. Fly high little bird, Growing up old leaves you with a trail for others to trail you in your wild adventures. Refreshing and free you feel now as the sunshines on your heart and soul.

This poem is about: 
My community


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