When A Bird Is Born

A poem I wrote spontaneously a while back, not really sure how or why it came to me, but it did and I really like it.

When a bird is born, it spreads its wings.

When a bird spreads its wings, two lives are torn.

Neither one can find another,

because one cannot function without the other.

When the bird folds its wings once more,

it brings together two lives once torn.

And through that encounter, 

true love is born.