The bird over the tree
Reminds me of my soul
Created to be free
And stuck
In this cage
We call world.
I heard him sing
At the top of his lungs
I am jealous
For I too have a voice
But I dont sing
As good or as loud
As he does.
I love you little birdie
Keep singing.
Bilingual Blog about poetry, short stories and some random pondering about life, culture and love as I understand it.
Sunday, April 7, 2019
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
The Cycle
Life is a cycle..or better yet, a series of cycles. We must learn to start, and then, to stop. Finish and close all cycles and start new o...
-
Today I stop by this little park in my son old school. Long time ago, in this same place, I asked him and his classmates what did they wan...
-
I am done with the drama people that run around the world pretending to be who they are not... I am done with the emotional needy... eve...
-
se me antoja que la vida es como ellas... pasajera e incierta que nos depara esa nube gris que se acerca lentamente en la distancia? traera ...
No comments:
Post a Comment