When life gives you lemons, make lemonade

Thursday, 8 May 2014

broken

A bird that flies
With broken wings as it cries
Under the cruel sun that fries
The injured wound as it dries
Yet again it will rise
Just in time to claim its prize
For the bird that flew was wise
And had that hope that never dies


The hopeful bird did sing
As if to reignite his wing
But only more pain did it bring
Yet the little bird flew on like a king
And his voice as loud as a ring
Of a bell did sting
But he went on and on like spring
And oh it was a beautiful thing !


The little bird that flew was brave
Even as he slowly neared his grave
He knew that some hope he must save
Even though rest is all he could crave
All his strength he made sure he gave
His silent goodbye was a wave
As he slowly headed into the dark cave
A road to freedom he must pave