The Readers Mite

You think me a synic

Maybe your right

perhaps you see

a bird in flight laughing

at those who think I should land

tweet in their ear

rest on their hand

count my plumage

avoid my beek

but I am wild, not used

to being and pleasing where I am,

I am as my Master, I am that I am,

He taught me to fly as I do

if a lesson you learn too

as you hear my song

when I won't play for you

I don't mind you seeing

with eyes a far off

knowing that my plumage

keeps my privacy screen on

it works better then cloths

for it distracts you

in illusions you see

not the real bird within

never the real me.


the best is all

a poet expects of you

what you find and what you see

makes little difference to me

Expect I only

that you see through eyes

wide shut

ears and mind open

to the outside

finding the place

where in you see you

and I see me

Reflections of both

in harmony

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