Song for a late bird
By well-wisher
Sun, 18 May 2014
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3 comments
1 likes
At least, my friend, you flew;
stroked heaven, broad and blue;
spread wide your agile wings;
of air, became the king.
So high you must have soared;
through small eyes seen much more,
the wide world far below,
than most will ever know.
Perhaps your soul's soared free;
perched high in heaven’s tree
but, whether or not that’s true;
at least, my friend, you flew.
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Comments
This is wonderful. Such a
This is wonderful. Such a beautiful poem - I loved it.
Bee
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You certainly turned that
Permalink Submitted by Luke Neima on
You certainly turned that grisly sight to the good, well-wisher. Triumphant imagery - birds in all their glory.
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