Tomorrow, come sunrise, if I am to sprout wings,
how far will I dare to go?
How hollow must my bones grow
so fluffed limbs may carry me?
Fly past steel-topped houses,
heated roads, grouses,
on towards open seas,
textured with waves, tinted with foam,
that I may tilt at a gust of wind
and run my feathers through the darkest ripple
as I would my fingers
but won't.
Instead I will hunt
land on an isolated island, soon to drown,
undress and in naked joy dance about
in the uninhabited forest
to climb trees, pick fruits,
live like an animal of sophisticated bliss.
To dare fly so far, how hollow must my marrow be?
The above poem is for the NaPoWriMo2021. Day 27. Feel happy after what feels like long time.
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