Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2012
I envy some birds, only the ones that can soar.

They have time.
To see, to be. They are the wind.

I envy the wind, silent, overwhelming, in control with no words.
Everyone goes with the wind, they have no choice. No voice no box, no voicebox, no locks.
Written by
Keloquial  Carolinas
(Carolinas)   
435
   Ishita Bhatia
Please log in to view and add comments on poems