Tell Me

Tell Me


Tell me you don’t know
where the bird lives inside of you,
where the song is sung
in the hidden recesses of your heart?

Tell me you don’t know
where your wings spring from
that lie folded in the stillness
behind your thoughts?

Why would you think
your pretense at denial
would confuse or mislead me?

All I see
is an angel singing
an angel ready to fly.


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