Wingless Bird Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

The cane taps, a gentle beat,
On pavement worn beneath his feet.
He sits, unfolds, the paper thin,
And starts to read, from deep within.

Of birds that swim, though born to fly,
Beneath the waves, where shadows lie.
Wingless, they dive, in ocean blue,
A story strange, and oddly true.

If blind eyes read such twisted tales,
Of nature's whims and muted wails,
Perhaps it's time to stop and see,
The strangeness blooming inside me.

What dreams are drowned, what songs unsung?
What paths untrod, what bells un-rung?
The wingless birds, a whispered plea,
To question now, and truly be.

T.M.Solvang