Flying tales

From my window I see
birds, as dots in the blue
like the letters, a,b,c
pets I possess on my keyboard.

What I should do
with them, I wish I knew
they’re yearning to fly of the page
their wings won’t let them be on the road.

As fliers, eyes take off from the stage
placed from the window, high on the sky
a beautiful heaven painted up there
truths under the sun, fly in letters of gold.