Tea Time Poetry

Dead Things Upon the Wall

I used to have wings:

big,

beautiful black ones 

with gold flecks.

I was young,

and new.

Then 

people decided to take what was mine

for themselves.

First it was a feather,

then it was few a more,

then it was both my wings.

I cannot fly

with my wings

detached

and nailed up on a wall.

We take the most beautiful things

in life

and tack them up on a wall.

To examine

and to find out

how they are so immensely beautiful.

They might be 

pleasing to the eye,

while strung up on a wall.

But I believe, 

you can find more beauty

in things filled with life,

than dead things

upon the wall.