Bluebird.

Bluebird.
Take flight
Into the grassy plains,
The air of fresh faces and
Bursts of beautiful color.

All just fantasy to the
Bluebird. A lifetime of
Flying into the transparent
Boundary between 2’s and 4’s
Has left the bluebird
Reality-stricken.

There’s no grassy plain
Only walls and walls of
Concrete ego. The air
Lends itself
To the darkest of
Clouds, smelling rank
Of affluence and greed.
Too much for the bluebird.

So she retreats, forces
Herself to take flight
Into the stale grassy
Plains and air
Of faces no longer new.
As the bursts of color
Fade into specks
Of black and white
That glitter in the eyes of the
Bluebird.