Flighty_A Poem
She punched in
Punched out
Rinse and repeat
It was a perfect copy of the day before
And the one before that
She was a copy
A poor photocopy
Of everyone else that worked in the hive
It was evening
It was morning
Another day and counting
She gazed out the view
Not quite hers
Her cubicle was a row away from the window
But if she could just
Stretch her neck right
She would see the clear blue sky
One bird flew by
And then another
When I grow up
I want to be like you
She thought
Grow up
Grown up
She was
God what would freedom look like?
She thought
She would know
The day she would trust
Fly up a little higher little bird
Fly up and just be
Fly up for those of us
For whom freedom
Is too costly
Waking up every morning to knowing what you are born to do and not a copy or photocopy is the joy of waking up. That breeds Hope. That in itself is Freedom
That’s true isn’t it? 🙌😊
This is amazing!
Thank you so much! 😄🙌❤️