I will never be that clever smile upon people’s lips
Or that realizing moment where they blink back tears
I am only that whispered sigh or wistful shrug that is found
at the end of words.

And like the grass, it is not my green that is missed in winter,
but the other colors I surround
Only when I grow too tall and proud am I noticed
and then cut to fit, with their intentions

I’ve been that bird with earthly wings who flew to close to the sun
feathers tattered, now raw and molten,
your gravity reminded me of my “proper” place
A corporeal impact upon my metaphor

But know that even with a single breath or glint of heaven’s light
I will find myself in currents, carried
by that possibility of becoming so much more
than at the end of words