Birds of a Feather
For the first time in her life, she felt like a sea
shell—something to be picked up, looked at,
maybe admired by some, but soon thrown
back into the sand without a second thought.
She didn’t want that—she didn’t want to be a
silver charm that hangs on a bracelet and bangs
against the countless other charms she’s beside.
No one will notice her stuck in the sand or blending
in on a bracelet for she looks just like everyone
else. She wanted to be a colorful feather on a
bird, one that helps it go from bland to beautiful, so
beautiful that it is impossible to get lost in a sea of
sand or a line of charms, for she is unique and always
comes prepared with a map to lead her back to herself,
Somehow, I feel that it is like in everyone else even children and babies. Correct me if I interpret it wrongly. Thanks.
At work lunch the other day I found my female colleagues had all had their nails done like mine – my reaction was to feel like I wanted to run out and have something different done to my nails – I want that colorful feather of your poem!
I nominate you Super Sweet Blogging Award, Ashley. Please check it out at http://daylighttune.wordpress.com/2013/05/02/super-sweet-blogger-award/
Wish you have a nice day.