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Prodigal bird.


I'm looking out the window

From my indoor steel home

It's true, I'm fed and watered here

No need to search, or comb

For sustenance or liquid,

I'm really cared for well, 

Why, they've even provided me

With my own calling bell.


Though looking at that sky so blue, 

I see, 'like looking' kind,

Just larger, not as pretty as

I am - least in MY mind.

How I yearn to fly so high 

To feel the breeze, see cloud,

But sadly in this 'prison cage'

I am just not allowed.


But, Wait, They hurried out this morn.,

My  home they did not drape,

They didn't even lock MY door

I see a chance  t'escape.

. . . . . . . . . . .


I'm free at last and flying high

The views I do admire,

But since I am not used to this, 

My wings, they start to tire.

Why did I choose to fly away

From my secure domain?

Was cared for, loved and fed quite well,

I SHOULD return, again.


Though I do wonder if those folk

Will even have me back?

Or even if I will recall

The returning flight track?

Though if I do not TRY to go, 

Forever, I'll be lost,

This "freedom flight" was huge mistake,

May have to pay the cost.

   . . . . . . . . . . . .

I made it back, my family grand

Welcomed with arms ope'd wide,

Don't think I'll ever try to flee,

Safe here, so will abide.








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