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I wish I were a bird;
could soar above the clouds
and touch the moon

fly faster than the speed of light
and hear the planning
of tomorrow

take wing against the march of time
and listen to the voices
of the past

or simply be;
glide upon currents of air,
observe the beauty of steamy tropic forests,
feel the icy cold of snowy mountain peaks,
perhaps, taste the tang of wild salty seas
and then perch, nonchalantly,
in a favorite tree.

© Tonya Greenlee

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage: 


I love this poem, I have always fantasised about the freedom of flying.
Beautifully written.


Stand tall, be proud to be who you are, give the world the finger!!!!

Ah wouldn't we all Tonya, dear you, you have done these things in words, sailed into the distance beyond vision, seen the mountains glisten in the rising sun and heard the tropical cry of the birds that made you start, and wonder at the waves of heat rising from their forests; what bird could fly to touch the moon? It must be a mythical bird, of such beauty, that we are suddenly drawn to look at the sky as if there were an eclipse, where man has become a goddess, or god, ah would we could sometimes, but then we do in our dreams, no barriers for the imagination of the brain.

Love you Tonya, Ann.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.


This is incredibly beautiful.


Lou, Ann, and Anna. I am so glad you all enjoyed this work.

Fantasy vs reality, i suppose Ann. We daydream and still face reality, which, can sometimes, be as sweet. Love you too.

hugs to all of you.

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