Being Free

When I saw birds that came this way,
To be like them I yearned,
Knowing they would only stay
Until the season turned,

The only wish I ever had,
Was to spread my wings and fly,
Not wanting to look back,
As I learned to touch the sky,

And when I returned,
Weary and tired as could be,
Thinking I would have earned,
My right to be Me,

Not knowing how or why or,
When things changed or did I,
I did not care to walk back through that door,
I liked my flight and being free.


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