Two purely white birds soaring in the distance,
It is only now, that I know of their existence,
Just a pair of birds in the sky,
Ever since, they've been on my mind,
In a place populated with seagulls, hawks, pigeons, and crows,
This duo stood out completely, simply for being unknown,
Could've been doves, but it doesn't make sense,
Under their wings, a delicate silence,
Another cigarette wasted on trying to find the meaning,
It's been over a week but their presence isn't fleeting,
There has to be something more,
Maybe it's just in my head,
But I've never seen them before,
And I'll never see them again,
I was born to be an interpretive questioner,
And birds have a history of being messengers.
-D.O.
YOU ARE READING
Through Weathered Eyes
PoetryThis book will contain poetry, prose, musings, and songs. Throughout a life of consistent chaotic circumstances, one's mind must manipulate mechanically to adapt. These words are what is heard between the creaking of the gears. There is no theme or...
