To Exist is a Delight in Color

Far away, I see the birds
They criss-cross like applesauce.

Let me touch you, little Bird. I yearn
for that feather across my fingers.

Let me be not an obstacle in your flight
Pass through, pass through
like you always do.

But one last request have I, little Bird.
Take me with you, into those clouds of yellow
white, orange, red, and blue.

Far off you seem, ever farther flowing
But now I see that which keeps you going.

To Exist is a Delight in Color.
Yearn for being, in one, each other.