I'Ll Never See a Bird Up Close
There it goes
Fluttering along
With the breath of spring
As its rustling wings echo
In my ears like permanent memories,
Its image brightening the day scenery.
But as I tiptoe as if the grass was thin ice
My close view is what I sacrificed,
When the bird flapped its wings and
Soars away
As if my tiptoes
Brought rumbling tremors.
Copyright © Taja Bankhead | Year Posted 2008
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