let me live where the fruit trees grow
where my voice can sing
where my feet may dance without covering
let me live beneath the heaven's true sun
where the stars glisten and I know them by name
where the pine is set free
where I can finally breathe
let me live where the flowers they bloom
where the whispers become a golden sound
where the sand catches and latches to my skin
YOU ARE READING
the bird who couldn't sing
Poetryonly the moon has heard and the walls echoed back what the feathers concealed, torn up beneath the notes out of tune and the beak freightened shut stepping a few inches back fore these wings don't take flight opening one feather lead to another pree...
