…..before I Can Spread My Wings!

.....before I Can Spread My Wings! short poem

Uploaded by Shälû Vïrk


“I long to flee from here and hide in a corner of your soul,
as the one deserted by his brood in a land unknown;
not a ray to light my path, not a shadow to comfort me!
I long to be with you, as the new-born abandoned
at the first breath longs for a healing touch;
My heart aches for the beats it once had,
the beats that you held so close as to mingle into yours,
and it was obscure whose heart it was- mine or yours!
…….And now,
I only crave for the instant
when the twinkle of your eye shines upon mine, breathing sunshine into my soul;
But, I shudder to think if I may pass on before you are here,
before the birds can sing,
before the stars can glint,
before my world lights up,
and before I can spread my wings……….”

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

Be the First to Comment & Review poem!

Notify of
avatar
wpDiscuz

My Questions

My Questions short poem

On wrong side of truth a prophecy burns. A conflict of your own choosing when more was less. Do you need some divine intervention in resolving human questions? The innocence of a sunflower will not blame the moon for dark

Wwii-a Poem Of My Grandfather John Walker In Wwii

Wwii a Poem Of My Grandfather John Walker In Wwii short poem

John Walker served his country in WWII It was something he felt obligated to do. In combat he risked his life Even while he was facing strife He wrote his family back at home While he was on another roam

I Am Burning My Bridges

I Am Burning My Bridges short poem

To search you I am burning my wheels. Put your hands on my shoulders for opening the book. To read the message between the words. When the time comes I want you to smear my ashes on the stones of

My Fault

My Fault short poem

Your genome was climbing down. I hate to count the steps. Feathers hurt sometimes after the end of flying. How far was the moment of dust? You were still swimming in saline water. A collective guilt will pay the price.

My Father, My World!

My Father, My World! prose poem

Who am I, without the presence of my father? Who am I, without the support of my father? Who am I, without the mercy of my father? I am nothing, without the love of my father. All that I am,