The bird flies

A bird will learn to fly.
It’s clear skies,
The bright horizon stretches high.
The bird flies.

Flowers bloom across,
The trees wave out,
With joy and pride, she takes a toss!
Flying is her ability, no doubt.

There’s an air around her,
Yet she’s breathless.
If only rooted she were…
Rooted how? A bird flies always!

She stops and rests.
Sits on a branch of the mighty tree.
Lethargy arrests!
Now will she ever be free?

(…what goes, comes around…)

A bird will learn to fly.
It’s clear skies,
The bright horizon stretches high.
The bird flies.