January 14, 2009
By Teresa Zimmermann, Spring, TX

I understand your distance from the ground,
And how badly you’d love to soar,
With wings outstretched, and head lifted upwards,
Your sky never ceases to be the floor.
Hope is the acknowledgment of fear,
And the grueling pursuit of happiness, yet
Your quest for teeth and dimples stops short
Before take the best of you’re your bitterness you let.

I hesitate, heart felt, the act of looking back
To see if you, the affected victim of mine, live.
Wounded, you seem broken, I’m reluctant to observe,
And cock my head, and touch your wings.
Feathers to heaven, and after I blink,
You bounce, unaffected into try-try-again.
Life is in hot pursuit, and betters is the place to be,
For you my bird, crushed legs and wings lame.

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.


MacMillan Books

Aspiring Writer? Take Our Online Course!