She
She has a name for us, the Mustang and for me,"Children of the Wind", she calls us,
I see her there,
Rooted to the earth,
A restless spirit, she is,
trapped in an ill-fitting
Physical manifestation which she begs to be let loose from.
She gazes at me with a yearning heart.
"Take me with you", I hear her begging thoughts,
Will she learn the truth,
That she needs not, my wings,
to embrace the sky.
The wind is hers to ride,
If only she lets drop the mists that shroud her spirit so,
For she is only as free as she believes herself to be.
posted by fallen into reality at 2:05 PM
3 Comments:
as usual sis, i find it difficult to understand your poetry! but it gives me hope... i can see something big being written here! :-)
pretty and intelligent! tnks wooster. that's 2 people i need to get to know, someday. cheers and welcome to the club suj. cheers, uber.
That's a beaut, i say. I wish i could think of the things you say, before you say them. you are my poetry.
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