A bird is just a bird,
That's all it has to be,
And nothing but a bird.
Its house is in the air,
Its blankets are its feathers.
And everything that matters,
Is flying just for pleasure,
Spread its wings and go,
Not worrying where to rest,
Whatever the weather is.
Lindíssimo, tanto a imagem quanto o poema!
ResponderExcluirAmei linda amiga Ana!
Abraços!
We are o only what we are. Nothing else matters.
ResponderExcluir