the black
bird
on the fence, like a soldier
at his
post,
is deep in thought.
i wish
there was a way
we could talk
to discuss things.
i'd like to know where
he's been,
where he's
flown to,
does he have a family,
does he
stay in touch with old
friends.
i get the feeling
we might
be cut from the same cloth.
but i'll never
know.
he spreads his wings,
lifts himself,
and off he goes.
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