Thursday, April 18, 2013

Birds

What would the Seagull say to the Arctic turn,
The rat speaking to the squirrel.
Do you work?
Do you save yourself?
Why? Do you know my ease?
Do you sea me,
Sitting on my thrown, same thing everyday
Eat, smile, be wealthy.
The wind rises though,
And carries Her on,
She's gone in a moment.
But they know the truth,
The sea breeze is the softest pillow.
The land you are lead over will provide for you.
You are not lost,
You will be back again soon.
And till then hold my memory close,
So that that ghost comes to life on my return.

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