My last single friend (that I haven't made in the last year or so) is getting married today -- the last bird to fly from the nest. What was once a squawking blur of colorful feathers, now a quiet monotone of sticks.
Just like parents don't want to hold back their children from sprouting wings and flying the coop, I have no bitterness towards all my friends who have moved on without me. It's just a lonely lonely place without them.
Luckily, I've been blessed to meet some really cool chicks (pun intended) over the last year or so, and they're doing a great job keeping me company. Still, I just feel really left behind. Why have my wings been clipped? Why must I stay behind in the dirty sticks and earth?
So, I'll dance at her wedding, have a good time, and see her off into the sunset. I'm happy for her, but sad for me. Tinges of green.
Great poem.
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