To a Little Brown Flier
To a little brown flier lying on a sill.
Who thought stained glass was sky.
Flying straight into Mans' cold mirage.
Body still warm in my palm.
The final diamonds are leaving its eye.
Slowly climbing into mine.
Beak filled with bits of future's nest...
Little brown flier, yellow ribbon crowns the head...
Faith set ablaze, when life pays alms to death.
Copyright © Anthony Biaanco | Year Posted 2016
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