Bird And I Poem by ms. carrot

I sit on this chair waiting for the words
Secluded, I look at the never seen wonders of the bird
My mind strolls off to the unspoken words that could be mine
To the bird that assembles on the electricity line
The piercing beak of the bird that cannot speak
And my own words that are too weak
And sometimes even the bird cannot see very far
And sometimes I think that the only words that I can speak is au revoir
But maybe that thin form of the bird
Is like the thin rhythm of the words that I preferred
And the bird that sits on the same line for hours
And my mind that yearns for the same words to bloom, like flowers
And then the bird who’s mind can think
And the miracles of the similes and metaphors that link
And the flight that the bird can seek
And for me the words that I wish to speak
And only then can the bird find its home
And for mine the deep thrusting sounds of words that spring like foam.