Time Across the Blackbird's Wings

All but the last few lines of this poem were written on the eve of my 21st birthday.

Another day
Another year
Life is passing by
Spreading like the winds of time
Across the blackbird's wings
True to form, it tip toes past
Careful not to wake you
A dream that lasts a hundred years
Then leaves you in the dark
Grasp at feathers slick and frail
Slipping through your fingers
The ones with wings
Must fly, must try
To out soar the winds of time