Fledgling

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Words form into lines
then congregate in shapes
they fledge in search of minds
to make their great escapes

Predators pluck them clean from pages
swooping wild they clear the sky
then sated they return to cages
their clipped wings never meant to fly

Between folded thoughts of pen and note
are cracks where hope slips through
of all the words I ever wrote
none will fly to you

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