Waking, Walking, Singing, in the Next Dimension? 1979 by Morris Graves
Frail and obedient,
that used to be me.
Silent, unquestioning,
always following.
But, when I took a sip
of the nectar dew on
one green stalk
that afternoon.
My little wings sliced the air,
my beak glistened against the sunset’s last rays.
I flew higher, faster.
Unrestricted.
Emotions bred actions
that I desire.
I turned selfish,
yet still frail.
Dazzling,
dainty.
I became,
with you.
*Written for the Magpie Tales
The Lust Manifesto 
Really beautiful
Thank you for such a memorable comment. These two simple words just made history — my first comment in this blog ever.
That is a wonderful honour! Many more comments will flow your way I am sure – your poetry was so nice to read – the rhythm was just right, the words not too little or too much, and each mattered – the emotion was there. Wonderful – and I never ever praise without sincerity.
Bright and skillful; well done.
Thank you Berowne for those kind words.
awesome ending. how that all came together. “yet still frail.” quiet applause
Thank you for leaving flutters on my heart, Michael.
Ah the nectar of … knowledge? lust? freedom? It is intoxicating! Good ideas here!
You can say those words and you can even supply more. That’s the beauty of not revealing everything; the imagination runs wild.
I think whatever was in the nectar would be a good thing if it helps someone to become stronger! I like the description you use when the wings slice the air.
Yes, I couldn’t agree more. Thank you, I like it too.
Really enjoyed this …………
Glad you did. Come back for more?
Words perfectly wrapped into each other. Beautifully done!
Smile for you, Barbara. Keep coming back.