The fear that each spreading of wings
means a leave taking, a goodbye.
Not all abandonments imply rejection
but fear robs us of the freedom
to know ourselves.
The sore feet and haggard, sleepless eyes -
always competing and keeping up;
chasing the glittering images,
insecure projections
of each other as insubstantial
as the dream we used to own
that mysterious future we had not yet tread.
One day I gazed into a muddy puddle,
saw an indistinct face, a hesitant smile
recognised my turn
to grow wings,
be reproved for leaving.
I knew I would have to pull away
from the arms that tried to hold me,
trusting the hearts to heal,
to see that the cloud road circles
and leads us back
for meetings brief
as the glow of a shooting star.
Wish on me.
YOU ARE READING
Sweeping Winds and Rainbow Beginnings
PoetryThese are a few of my poems. I would prefer to take my time and try to sort the better ones out from the rubbish so it might take me a while to collect. I hope you can stop by and enjoy a poem or several. In poetry (good or bad) we express something...
