“It’s all in the perspective of things” Gun Roswell

Directions 

Flying Up

Catching the winds of spring
Soaring high up, my song to sing
I am a pretty bird in flight
And I may not always choose right
But I am sure this direction
Is the one I need for completion
Of my getting up so high
Even so far as the crows fly
Despite being a miniature beaked thing
There is no rule saying I cannot sing
And thusly, I am up here
In the open wide stratosphere
Higher than any other bird ever
In your face, for being clever!

“It’s all in the perspective of things” Gun Roswell

Directions 

Going Down?

On a direction, one way, towards, the subway
Deep down, below, under the ground, we now go
Stepping on the steep steps, off the railing never go let
Never can be too sure, what creatures lure
Behind the shadow, inside the dim lit tunnels
Running quickly, feeling a tad sickly
Then, on to the platform, every single one of us storm
A train approaching, no time for second guessing
Hopping on, hope being truly strong
That it was going to the right direction
But still the feeling of anticipation
Maybe, just maybe, I got really confused
And went into the absolutely wrong direction!