Orange Bird

To take away,

with the accordance of a fowl,

the flight of a child

is not the loss of air.


The wings that protrude

from the back of your aims

are the soul that keeps one on fire;


grown from the back of the bones,

the present shoulder blades.


Ever elloquent in nature,


from the nature,

the life,

the mind,

a tune that prevails;


the feathers that caress the wind,

the atmosphere that one creates.


To take away,

an impossibility of the physical.

the flight of a child is ever existent;

the detail generated by imagination,


I have come to this realization......


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