“If only I could fly away, like the birds do. At least, sometimes. Maybe I would even return? Maybe, if I felt like it.” Gun Roswell

Fly far away

The large size feathery bird at flight, no matter morning, noon, late day or even a very late night
Flapping its tall wings and then without any kind of word, towards the skies it softly swings
Taking to flight, with the might of the blowing winds and then disappearing into the clouds
Because that is where the bird is the most safe, almost as of covered in an invisible shroud
Wherever it does go, as it takes on the slow but guided route, without as much of a shout
Only the mighty bird knows, and it has not told even one soul of its plans, as it now stands
There is no way to follow, but even if the plans sound totally hollow, there is an agenda there
As on this blue sphere, the option of coming back to whence one came from is always there
So, if you are fond of watching where this bird will land, just remained quite still on the strand
And maybe, around and around the bird will fly and then in the end come by to the place it sent