Long Lost was the Bird
Long lost was the bird.
Carried away with every swirl of the wind.
Cold.
With nowhere to find warmth.
Where is home?
Long lost was the bird.
With his white feathers.
Now black.
With the leftover soot of the fire.
Where is home?
Long lost was the bird.
With his soft talons.
Now sharpened.
By the concrete that kept him a prisoner of reality.
Where is home?
Long lost was the bird.
Hungry.
Seeking a connection with a peak.
That brings more than satisfaction to the stomach.
Where is home?
Long lost was the bird.
Where is home?
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Nemi
Poems shouldn't be interpreted or interpreted by the beliefs of the author, but through the feelings the reader has at that precise moment.
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