She looked over the rim of her spectacles Wrapping me in cellophane yesterdays I left the room, did not digest left with right As my mind yanked my coat from the peg Leaving tear stained finger prints on the locker door
Wedged between the garden gate a bird sat Its wings trapped in suffocating feathers Broken tips flapped its tomorrows into yesterday Dreamt the belief it could fly with mother nature
Its back eyes spelt fear, with beaked entrapment I was used to seeing the bird on a wing...soaring I did not know its fairy tale ending....watching I saw someone whisk it away, a bundle of cotton cloth
I wonder if it fell out with nature as I fell short Of 'Miss' with her desire to teach the fan dango To those that wouldn't learn.Β Β The french parrot laughed In my day dream, as she threw a missile on the wings Of a near miss chalk board duster.......