The Wingless Bird

It crosses my mind sometimes - With what heart would a bird watch the skies? The bird who has no wings, no hope to fly, No one to help as the years crawl by. Would he be furious for what he had lost? Or would he be cross for what the loss had cost? Perhaps, his longing for the long-lost freedom, Has made his pain a lot more gruesome. He might look at the sky with hope, That some day he'll morph, He would soar like a lark in glee. And still, in despair, he desires to be free.