Rags
she lay upon the cloud tops
ignorant of her rags
on her back loose feathers
stuffed into a sack
because she shined with silver
he thought she could fly
but those who are born soaring
never needed to try
suits, boots, life impaired
self-contained in a paper bag
he begs for her to love him
burning with a desire
ferocious as a tiger
caged in glass
imprisoned within his fear
the heart won't let her near
Copyright © Frederick Naish | Year Posted 2018
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