I can’t breathe when the door is closed.
Everything is beautiful, radiant, but so distant.
The sunlight mocks me, heating my feathers with the joy I wish I could give.
And content I would be, if they didn’t make me sing.
I much prefer quiet.

At the value of nothing,
Zero is a dead cold end,
Or the mark of new beginnings.

It all depends
On the arithmetic
That you choose
To use.

Truth lived there
Making little noise
Speaking to few
“Just pretend I’m not here”

And why can morning not last all day,
All afternoon,
All night, then stay.

Morning bright and light
Clean and New
Clear and Slight
Brisk with Dew

Why must morning go away
Why can it not stay-
UnStolen by the rest of day
UnDrowned by dimming hours
UnBuried by blindness in the sway.

Why can morning never stay?

Grow up, they said
but even as I did
I lost some child like wonder

Now. All I could ever want
Is to grow back down.