Broken Wings.

How can I fly
With these two broken wings
I’m a poor wounded bird who just sits here and sings
With the leaves close around me
The world far below
I am stuck on this branch ‘til my feathers regrow

My voice is my message
My song my lament
While I’m waiting to soar I must be content
With the wonders around me
The beauty that grows
The gentle green summers the cold winter snow

And yet while I sit here
Not free to take flight
A part of me dwindles like evenings last light
And though I am still me
Deep down I know
That if I don’t fly soon I’ll simply let go.