I wanted to stick with the others
but it was when I fell off
I learned how to fly

Broken wings and ****** feathers
the grey dove tries to fly once more
It feels as if it's being pulled in one direction
And being unable to follow the leash
It watches forlornly as the others around it
the ones who had been broken by the same thing
take flight
renewed
refreshed
ready
but the little grey dove
isn't so sure if she's ready to take flight anymore
She's not sure who's fault it was.
The cat who broke her wings and threw her?
Or was it herself, for letting him do it?
The little grey dove
is waiting instead of doing
She knows that time can heal her wounds.
But perhaps the bone is broken
too far up.
Perhaps she'll never fly again.
No one comes to keep her company through out the months
she's made a small refuge, a place to sleep
a place to heal
But every once in a while
A newly white dove comes by
with a bent feather of her friends
evidence that the cat is still out there
While she sits
and heals
and does nothing.

Feather is a tiny hope
That can fly
With no more rope

And lot of feather
In its wings
Soothes our inner soul
To never give up
In life

A tiny hope of feather
Filled in full of wings
Is ready to fly
At any time
To reach its destination

Whether weather is bad or good
Whether there is dark cloud

Feather give positive vibes
During all around the seasons

Feather in every weather
Makes a cooling effect
In our lives

Let’s be kind
To the owners of tiny hope
And give some water
In every summers
To keep fresh those feathers
Which mesmerise us with
It’s feathery wings
To keep going
Without a quit

I who have a hollow shaft
I,
Who lilts with the barest surge of wind,
I... who has fallen from the
Grace of my comfort
And has nothing to lean back on... I...

I see the ink of many
Vibrant, loud and subtle
Colours that fly around
Colours that I reach out for
And write with.
And yet where
Is my ink?
Am I doomed to
Nonexistence?
And yet I
In my own essence
Gurgle, fluctuate,
Still finding my flow
Against the turbulence of
My mind fraught with
Dissociated thoughts.

And as the feather flows against
The winds
Swaying
Gently
My ink is of air
And world
And nature

Toucan
Two can