Clipping Wings
Feathers fall each passing day
Alone I ride again
Around the block sun on my back
I can’t see the fishbowl
Feathers lay upon the ground
I wonder where they come from
So pretty, light and delicate
Passing Children take them home
Rinding along the view doesn’t change
Somehow I don’t know how to stop
I see the cracks in the sidewalk
Slowly they swallow the feathers
My back is sore again I ride
The wind is lighter against my face
I start to squint its getting dark
Through I pedal the day isn’t over yet
Feathers drift in the air
And slowly fall to the ground
Its not until my wings are gone
That I know those feathers were mine
Copyright 2014
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