The Free Bird’s Dilemma
Me, myself, and I, and these white wings of mine
are here at the cloud crossroads
with nothing but time.
For I’ve spent sixteen years
wishing badly to fly
and at last all these feathers have grown.
But that was before another’s warm wings I‘d known
like the peacock, so grand
but landlocked and alone.
And he’s so beautiful
but he sinks like a stone
and I can’t pull him up, though I try.
Now the vacations, migrations, overnight stays
are just not worth the hustle
of our flightless days.
Because I’ve felt more free
in the warmth of his gaze
than my feathers ever knew before.
And I look at that sky and I know what’s in store,
but that sweet freedom air
isn’t sweet anymore.
So I’ll sit here with him
on our bright forest floor,
until my farewell song finally plays.