The Wing, Balance In, In Time Poem by Rebecca Stansfield
The Wing, Balance In, In Time
Every bird 'a coming around
the fire of the WHO in me,
and where is the day starting?
I love you-
and where does it be ending?
I love you-
If there was a balance of perfection,
a real one number of time,
just one wing on a butterfly,
don't let it stay,
the wing, balance or time,
do it though- begin to play-
rushes of it- everyday.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
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4/25/2024 12:31:09 AM # 1.0.0.1119
