poetry by Mercysmine

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My baby bird
Has learned to fly
But to my dismay
He flies much to high

Faster he soars
Into foreboding skies
Intrigued by the danger
My bird loves to fly

When my little bird
Finally returns to the tree
I scold him, then enfold
Him under my wing

As darkness falls
And the night birds sing
I worry even more
What tomorrow will bring

I know in my heart
My nest can no longer hold him
The call of the wild
Is so much stronger than I

I sometimes wish, my baby bird
Had never learned how to fly.

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