I
am held
with wings
Of strawberry
feather
Lightly, as the
wind
On which we
fly
yet strongly as any
Other cage's door
The fuzzy down
my skin comforts and warms me yet suffocates my spirit. Pressed against
The chirping of his Turns
He
lullaby
liquid.
does not know,
Inside It is I
me
by
am
And
cry.
I
his limbs
supported his
claws
That grip the branch
Where we
sit.
How can I take so much Yet give so
little?
How can my
soul soar
Higher into the sky Searching for the nest
From which
I
fell?
Tressa Carmichael
