Mother Goose

I could never sing the song whistled by the prettiest bird of flight.
Though light holds no direction, nor conviction
I have a restriction reigning on a thistle path of night.
Vines they intertwine,
Dance dance about my feathers.
Divine shines inhabit not a cloud of my weather.
Withered, webbed, rubber legs
Wading.
Waiting.
Amidst muddy water.
I am the daughter of her speckled egg.
I cracked it's casing with a baby beak.
To find the rotten ovals of the others a resting wreak.
Mother goose
What was the use in whistling that week?
Mother Goose
What's the use
In kissing kings
When their fingers fidget
From walking without wings.
No I could never sing the song wasted by the prettiest bird of flight.
I can feel the fish.
Divine shines on scales of light.
Swimming inside of my body at night.