deepundergroundpoetry.com

Eggs: Maroon

This poem was inspired by one of Plato's ideas of love and longing . . .[/font]

When I rolled from the nest[/font]
my being was split[/font]
my countenance was blessed[/font]
from a�shell: maroon[/font]
I came cracked by the lord's almighty spoon[/font]

my toiled early days[/font]
bear great a weight[/font]
blighting my wings[/font]
impairing my flight[/font]
but when the winds change strong my feet hold tight[/font]

I watch my family and fellows fly[/font]
from an apt perch[/font]
them blossoming in the crimson sky[/font]
reaching peak, reaching noon[/font]
while I sit whistling a tune[/font]
�[/font]
abiding my time[/font]
I need not be rash[/font]
not yet in my prime,[/font]
nor in the right state[/font]
I know after all that true love will wait[/font]

many a prospecting love did sit[/font]
perched with I[/font]
until we quit[/font]
not for reasons mutual nor I[/font]
but for her longing for the crimson sky[/font]

so off they flew
and here sits I[/font]
no longer longing for the crimson sky[/font]
I adjust my feet, turn away and see behind me[/font]
a single standing apple tree[/font]

and on the branch closest to I[/font]
a lonely bird did sit[/font]
there alone in the apple tree[/font]
with a resonance that fit[/font]
there she was whistling that same tune as I[/font]

now on our perch we solemnly sit[/font]
watching the crowded crimson sky[/font]
our wings redundant for our feet are gripped[/font]
whistling in harmony our fondest tune[/font]
looking down at our nest with eggs: maroon[/font]

Because those of us with wings should fly high, enriching and
inspiring those without. Let the gracefulness and wisdom of
their countenance, as they glide seamlessly in the
crimson sky, leave us in utter awe.
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