I speak but noone can hear
I flap but noone lets me out.
I want to fly,
free into the big blue thing,
sometimes it changes to dark.
that’s okay. I’d rather be
up high, away from this black prison.
Big things moving,
Help let me out I squawk
but no help.
Do I stay here till I die?
all I want to do is fly.
DWTSmith. #poetrymonth
It was quiet but not anymore,
school holidays filled the absence.
The whoosing of driving cars,
steam from the hot road.
A stretch of trees – dull colours
dragged through the raindrops.
Birds chirped across the clouded sky.
Cold. Freezing cold.
The winter sky hugged the hills,
yet the moon is hidden
and I could not relax.
DWTSmith. #poetrymonth
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