Low Flying Bird

There is no final dance

No significant closing chance



Love and Passion

Just takes a bit of time

No looking toward the sky

For a fulfilling sign

I stretch the curtains

Of my wandering mind

I refuse to let go

Claiming there is a closing time

In my mind the scene changes

Arranges the lines around me

I hear that the weary word

From the wings of a low flying bird

Flapping wings unheard

We bend at the knee

To touch the ground cold

As I maintain my posture

But am getting old

There is no final dance

No closing notes

I will not hang my life work

On that whimsical hope