You paint a wall,
Paint it blue,
Yellow, orange, and purple too,
With an absent mind,
Up and down,
You leave it half finished,
You knew what you were doing until you reached a question,
A question of life,
Why does a hatchling know how to fly?
Know how to fly when it’s first born,
It’s first stroke steady and strong,
But does it ever get nervous,
When it sees the open sky?
Light blue,
Then black,
Drawn out evermore,
The sunset dropping,
The clouds stretching,
Pencil lines,
Left by sidetracking,
In a curious mind,
Faint red and green,
Were put together,
To see if they’d overpower,
Yellow squares,
Across the globe,
Searchlights turned up,
To the sky,
In hunt of a hatchling,
The answer to my question,
Found suddenly,
But sadly without any sympathy.
Star Dust
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/searchlights/
