Reach up to,
The sky's above.
We flightless people,
Jealous of the doves.
Wanting to soar,
Far away.
The grounded people,
Saddened everyday.
They winds it blows,
Calling out to us.
We lead footed humans,
No words to speak.
So we look above,
To the sky we stare.
We desire always,
To soar through the air.
But we can't,
Our lives are set in stone.
Weak wanting humans,
Flight cannot be achieved.
YOU ARE READING
Who is He?
PoetryA look inside my tattered mind. All of these are original poems written by me in various moods of my life.
