Complaceny

from my hands
you little bird with a black beak
shall take the grains

i wait for time to grow you
strong wings so you can fly away and join
your family

and then you have wings
why do you want to stay still in my house
pecking the grains in my hands?

what is it
that you love on the lines of my palms?

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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