#9

Bird Brain

" A writer that can’t

and

Poet what ain’t"

Is not how I once was perceived.

For when a free-thinking young soul

With achievement my goal

The sky was for reaching, I believed.

 

(However)

The letter in my pocket sticking in yet another boot-blow:

Here I am in the People’s Theatre painting my rainbow

When the sudden impact of life’s irony leaves me word-less

And I climb down from the ladder and cross the Yellow Brick Road

Leaving my duck-egg-blue sky, bird-less.

 

And, just like in a dream that never took flight

Dreams of Red-Brick that faded from sight

 

Out of reach now, as the Moon

As Neverland and, Brigadoon;

A Dorothy, that never got to Oz

A Scarecrow sans a brain parodying all I once was

 

.. I walk down Stephenson Road not seeing the ground;

Clouds in my head blocking out sight and sound.

 

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