A poem written for a friend.


Where are you, my sweet, broken boy?
I can't find you today
The dark pulls you deeper
And further away

I see all your pieces
All scattered around
Like birds of prey feathers
Shot down to the ground

I'd gather your feathers
In a bright magic bowl
And sew them together
To make your life whole

But I'm not a goddess
Nor angel am I
My heart breaks to realize
I can't help you fly.

October 15,2009

Poetry by Nancy Sikora
Read 609 times
Written on 2010-12-30 at 08:52

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Rob Graber
Very enjoyable (in a sad kind of way). Why such a long first line? Line 10 pushes things a bit, but line 1 sounds definitely over the top.


You be surprised how a little gathering and sewing can help restore broken boys.

vladimir todor turmanev
This feels like allegorical mystery.
I like your stuff.