Birds fly overhead -
ducklings in a pond,
I learn to see the sky,
through the eyes of the universe.

Stars sparkle in the distance,
the sun shines inside,
my own drunk heart,
it is love that rules my mind.

My feet in shallow water,
my soul learns to walk,
on the reflection of the surface,
just like white swans.

The brushstroke of a wing,
as soft as cotton clouds,
why do crickets jump,
inside my own heart? 

The wings that fly,
find the end of the road,
at the bus stop of rout sixty six - 
only the lonely return home.

But the bird without wings,
evolves the given time,
in creativity, and perseverance - 
alone is never alone.

Ducklings in a pond,
the years have made me young,
I cry a million tears,
until my home is in the stars.