to Have A rED bIRD
THINGS that i own
are not bound, even books
they have pages
open, dog-eared
some even torn
i own these stained
margins
i put my signatures in
them
i own a red bird
because i planted a tree
beside the house
a branch has become
intimated to my window
and the red bird
sings there
i own the morning song now
but for me to learn
to fly
and own the sky too
i must
let the song go
i do not make my hands
as the house
of wings
neither my heart
the the treetops for
drifters
for in truth to own red birds
is always premised
on the respect for their
own freedoms....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
No comments until now.