In the midst of a waning Thursday afternoon,
I observed the outdoors from my cozy nook.
Birds serenaded each other from the treetops,
Flapping theirs wings,
Playing in the cordial breeze.
A handsome red robin took center stage,
Usurping the cynosure of the garden.
Gracefully, he sauntered to the edge of an evergreen limb,
Released an emphatic chirp, and slid into the sky,
Becoming airborne.
Free.

Meanwhile, I gazed at the clouds lethargically.
I was anchored to the land,
Indentured to books and worksheets.
I wished that I too could flap my wings,
Be hoisted into the air by the breeze,
And venture into the clouds.
But this I did not endeavor.

Unknowingly, I contracted my horizons,
Preoccupied by the useless facts and figures,
I was oblivious to the world outside of my abode.
While others lived their lives and spread their wings,
I fell behind.
They found joy in clouds, while I,
A flightless emu,
Buried my head in the sand.