NEWBORN
Want to go back home,
simple cave, dark and warm,
now just broken memories.
Exposed to light, I sense
sounds of feet pattering,
whispers of stale grain.
Can’t remain cheery.
Jumpy, as nights recycle
into perpetual days.
My own fault, once
dreaming of adventures
beyond that white dome.
Now I sit, leaning,
learning to fit in
pecking orders everywhere.
(Image: Sad Chick by axemanrj on DeviantArt)
Voices under the Sun 陽光下的聲音 