he sat alone under the oak and he cried <br />from longing for the elapsed time <br />a long time ago and irremediably. <br /> <br />he wanted to fly as the bird, <br />but he was already too heavy for ascents. <br />he knew, how ached the fall. <br /> <br />and then saw the fairy godmother... <br />arrived straight from the outer space. <br />tapped him on the head, by silver wand <br /> <br />dust fell off like sparks from the bonfire. <br />she looked at him and she said: <br />you will be a poet of one topic. <br /> <br />because, you more will invent nothing... <br />on the back of other, you will always jump up, <br />a bit higher, a bit higher... a bit higher... <br /> <br />and it is just about it, in order to you, <br />soothe your nerves. and you satisfied lust, <br />at least on that subject matter. and believe me <br />aura how it is a weather, <br />not only for you isn't kind... <br />worry better about your bird. <br /> <br />perhaps it to turn out that <br />it is not a skylark... and eagle? <br />or rather a small pigeon, but not of peace....<br /><br />Maria Barbara Korynt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-small-bird/
