Looking For Gold | To a traveller

I keep looking at the sky that looks like

a book read hundred times, but you never pass by.

And down here, my nest is full

of thorns, and yet I have to stay.

You go, climb the mountains, see the hills

And visit thousands tribe.

And leave me with my sorrow and

The sadness I have to climb.

I had enough feathers to see the world

To fly, but with no chance in sight, I use them now

To write, and wipe the tears I cry.