What if
a little bird
has broke its leg,
and sits there
like a stone,
with beating heart
in stair step way
and all alone?

You look away
and fathom
what to do. . .

Meantimes pass. . .
It’s disappeared.
Some sort of residue
is there.

You read sometimes they’re just in shock,
and take a while
once more to find and join the flock. . .

But here,
you really can’t imagine
that that bird
away and through the air
has flown.

This entry was posted in Medium Length Poems, Poetry, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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