Was strolling alone, when someone passed by,
Seeing him solitude,he asked him,”why?”
Isn’t this beautiful?
He said looking at the sky…..
Restoring to his senses,he heard a noise,
Perhaps a smile.
“Another of those mad olde shepherds!”
He’d been thinking meanwhile.
“I am not a madman,not forlorn!”
“Choseto be myself,opt to be alone.”
Our deliberations,apart they stand.
Are illusions I feel.”
Only if they could all be lent….
“Till then all I have,It’s all mine.”
But his only wish…
He wishes he had wings.
Wings,that could make him fly,
Take him beyond your sky,
And into the anonymity,he came from.
For all these years, the stars,
Because he promised
That he would return.
“Isn’t this beautiful?”
“Where I fly……”