2.29.04
Ah, the silence of Sunday morning. I love it. Seth is always
asleep on the couch downstairs, everyone is away at church, and I am
left to myself for once. As I said before- I love it.
I'm sitting here with my window open listening to the golden
silence. Even the police looking for my friend have taken the day off.
All I can hear is the chirping of birds and occasional bark of a dog.
You know what? I'm suddenly inspired to write a little poem about this
silly little bird that landed on a branch outside my window.
"Fly Away"
"The swaying trees once lifeless grey
now growing sprouts of new-
seeming sprinkled buds of pink
scattered amongst our view.
This little being full of life
rests its fragile wings-
landing lightly upon a branch
its resounding voice sings.
Who would know that from this being
such a sound could come?
Its golden chest and crimson body
blending beautifully with its hum.
He spread his small yet might wings
and gracefully takes flight-
capturing a glance of everyone's eye
until he is out of sight."
Yes. If only I could be like that bird and fly away. I would be
free from this wretched place! Finally, I would be truly joyful. Alas,
that can never be. I shall probably become one of those teenaged, high-
school drop-outs trying to bum money off people in the streets. Yes,
this is the story of my life.
Ah, the silence of Sunday morning. I love it. Seth is always
asleep on the couch downstairs, everyone is away at church, and I am
left to myself for once. As I said before- I love it.
I'm sitting here with my window open listening to the golden
silence. Even the police looking for my friend have taken the day off.
All I can hear is the chirping of birds and occasional bark of a dog.
You know what? I'm suddenly inspired to write a little poem about this
silly little bird that landed on a branch outside my window.
"Fly Away"
"The swaying trees once lifeless grey
now growing sprouts of new-
seeming sprinkled buds of pink
scattered amongst our view.
This little being full of life
rests its fragile wings-
landing lightly upon a branch
its resounding voice sings.
Who would know that from this being
such a sound could come?
Its golden chest and crimson body
blending beautifully with its hum.
He spread his small yet might wings
and gracefully takes flight-
capturing a glance of everyone's eye
until he is out of sight."
Yes. If only I could be like that bird and fly away. I would be
free from this wretched place! Finally, I would be truly joyful. Alas,
that can never be. I shall probably become one of those teenaged, high-
school drop-outs trying to bum money off people in the streets. Yes,
this is the story of my life.