Wings Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

We teach each rounded shoulder
holds wings enfolded there
which, when heart's bare, life colder,
could reach out everywhere.

Don’t wait as passive folder
nor rhyme, nor time to spare
for voice, for choice untold, a
shadow’s shadow scare.

If wings found speech life bolder
would be, no fears, despair,
no fickle wind sheer, boulder,
joy’s windfall's waiting where

defeat, aground to moulder,
prepares sound rebound rare.
Remember, when you're older,
to wish swell wings well fair.

Although regrets now smolder
don’t only ‘stand and stare’,
respond, beyond beholder,
reveal concealed spring, flair

which thinks fate’s inks have scrolled a
desire to challenge, dare.
Tomorrow greener, golder,
peels off grief laden layer.