The pale moon kissed the dark,

Giving a chill to the autumn night.

Small birds let out tiny sighs as

they waited for the approaching dawn.

On branches of frost, they held fast

with small wiry feet, casting cautious

glances from their perch high in the tree.

In the near distance hiding in the darkness,

far from the moons light. Hid a morbid

creature that spied the tiny birds upon their

perch in the tree, and envy them he did, for

he too dreamed of flight. He dreamed of the

glory that they must feel, to cast off into the

sky and dance the dance of freedom and

abandon desperation's cries. To fill his lungs

with heavens air, to soar amongst the clouds

without any care. Oh but woe is he, for he

knows that to cleave to the earth is his destiny

and that in darkness he shall roam that, to dream

to be free is only an illusion that was not meant to be.

Silence now, the birds are asleep, as I, hunker beneath

the tree to weep.