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Chirping like a bird

What a luxury to sing like a bird

By John WilsonPublished 9 months ago 1 min read

Birds bathe in their own songs

The sound of flowing water from the leaf gap

Sprinkling sparkling spray.

I can't see them. My eyes are cobwebs of desire

My heartbeat was noisy and cloudy

A lot of heavy breathing

I have wheels under my feet. I can't stop

The wind in my ears is full of peddling and bargaining

Not a nest where birds sing

Think of when I was a child, dig the scene of bird's nest

I want to climb the tree again

Be still as a bird

What a luxury. Chirping like a bird

What a luxury

surreal poetry

About the Creator

John Wilson

I am a freelance writer and I hope my articles will give you pleasure

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