astral

thirteen

up in the treetops there sang a bird,

wings spread, stood proud, not a care in the world,

at least the thought till the voice was heard,

a speck of his truth, seemed quite absurd...

along the lines, his voice cracked short,

he tried to shirk, an escape of some sort,

then one fine day, he flew away,

and left his observers to dwell in dismay...

how could he go? what had we done?

no, it wasn't the fault of anyone,

alas, his past caused his soul to cleave,

and in the end, he could only leave...

i gazed up at the sky, beginning to ponder,

where would the bird dare to wander?

my gaze became glee, as I finally see,

the bird come back home, to face it once more,

all at the age of thirteen.

My first poem in this book! Please give feedback. Thank you!