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    How do i get down off this tree
    i tried my wings but there ran somewhere, i dont know where
    i watched the bees and birds go by
    waiting for the day the i fly
    i cat believe its me.

    my shoe lace untied...hope is coming hope is near
    my buttons are down, wonder why i wonder whyyyyyy
    then i look up in the sky, the glory sun came down
    i thought it rescued me.
    what have i done to myself

    crimson trees and butterscotch moon everyday i look at you
    what do you bring to meeeeeee
    what message dyu share
    i thought i knew but i don't, listen its hard to carry on - on this tree,
    take me out oh take me out......

    I'm looking for my wings, i want to fly out
    I'm looking for the day it will come by
    if you see it float right by the alley
    could you tell wings that i miss him so desperately
    tell.. that the day has come and Dawn is near so dont be late
    cos time wont wait....not today not today
    and time would tell, the story that you missed
    and i miss you
    and i miss you
    i miss you soo honestly.

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    Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion.

    T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

    ladygodiva’s Poems (1)

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