More Time

A young yet beautiful little bird to set free. Motionless among the others but integrgated by the height of the tree. The leaves set falling,the colors of the world. The liscences yet not own,for the heart of this baby girl. The ground yet settles beneath the plants so to speak. The hightest level of elevation for this bird thats to weak. The consumers of the family,yet know not to tell. That the baby bird is not ready ,to come out of her shell. The eyes of anticipation ,though wonders above the others. A little more time for the baby bird to fly away from her mother. Afraid to see the sun set,alone so the baby bird does not set free. The breath of this baby bird is the true heart of me.