The bird view

Poetry

The eagle is steering in silver.
Swifting.
zig-zags, Till it feathers, open.
That eagle is soaring up there,
In its own conscious.
The bird view, alloy silver beak.
Phheeewwww, ride above the noon cloud.
From North to stars.
The bird is flying

Happy birthday to me.

And thank you for reading my works. I hope you’re doing alright.