The bluebirds:
When the bluebirds fly into the morrow, the sky will grey into a sort of yellow. There will be mums and dads time the laces of their shoes, yawning – sleep in their eyes.
A warm summer breeze fades into a cold autumn wind through the orangey-red trees, the sunflowers begin to wilt, and children turn to teenagers. Their minds begin to mould as their curiosity and imagination turns into attitude.
And as you grow, you grow to realise how your parents feel about their jobs and bills as the stress begins to accumulate. But when your voice your concerns – adults will tell you, “That’s just life, kid.” and move on.
Prod and poke at every body part wishing you could change, so they eventually turn into all of the parts you’ll love about yourself, because perfection is an illusion.
But even as summers turn into harsh winters, and morrow comes far quicker than you’d think,
As you watch yourself grow and change.
Turn your head to look out of the window,
the bluebirds will still be there.