Could This Little Bird...be Me?

See the little bird in the tree,

Hidden so masterfully.

Nestled, camouflaged delicately

Among the branches intricately.

Could this little bird...be me?

A silent statue on a limb

Shrouded, thus stoically dim.

Perched, yet poetically prim

A faint, fluttering rhythm.

Resolute, what stirs him?

Could this little bird... be me?

Change of posture, a sound slight

Suddenly, the bird takes flight.

A secret signal, soaring to the heights

The horizon lures his keen eyesight.

Flying higher, higher without fright

Sweet liberty, glorious delight

Could this little bird... be me?

Is there a height to high?

Is there a song, a shrieking cry?

A melodious lullaby?

Could I soar, attempt to fly?

Are there dreams beyond my eye?

My heart and soul, softly sigh.

Could this little bird... be me?

Dedicated to my children:  Christopher, Erica, Daphne and Natalie.