Ruffled feathers covering
his cracked and broken bones.
Not only bones but scars,
created by blackened stones.
With all but two wings,
escape is no choice.
Life will refuse to slow down,
for a fallen angel's sorrowed voice.
Time passes him by,
encouraging his feathered wings to wilt.
Yet his scars only heal,
and his wing shall only tilt.
Bones splintered and bent,
stone marks merely healing.
With growth of a new wing,
a new adventure is yielding.
YOU ARE READING
Dreamless Nights.
PoésieA collection of poetry have written over the years, becoming more and more recent.
