4th March 2010

Broken wings leave me flying along a path less streamlined,
Less than broken bones would hinder my flight.
Dearly beloved, will you see the sky and tell me of your endless travels,
Across the desert, under the sun,
Beneath the sea and the skies of desire,
Will your eyes glance across the continents, glazed and bright,
Oh, did you get some sleep last night?
Will you sleep under the stars when dusk comes,
Will you watch the rays of the sun disappear like the last slivers of hope,
And wake to the slow dawn, be it of drizzle or day?
Come what may,
You will always be flying, wayward,
Falling, dissipating,
You’ll never know,
The skies of tomorrow,
Or falling into yesterday.