A Will

The birds fly free up in the sky.
Why oh why can it not be me?
Why can’t I just soar and be.
Why can’t I fly above so high?
 
My spirit guides me as I sigh.
My soul wills me to be free.
Where is this highest decree?
This is why I hear doves cry.
 
I open a seal,
Carry a smile.
All is so real.
I last a mile.
 
Inside of me there is a will.
This is why I can’t sit still.
 
 
© Copyright: Ann Rich   2006

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