Fly High
I was wild and free,
Free to soar in the sky!
The sky was my home,
I was the emperor of the skies.
No one escaped my sight!
I ate at my will to all my fill,
With no rival to fight.
But now I am a prisoner;
In a prison where not even my wings fit in.
A meal a day;
Something that tastes like hay.
All I have is but memories of my glorious past;
And never to be free again!
poem by Vivian Thompson
Added by Poetry Lover
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