Oh the setting sun is a beautiful thing,
It reminds me of a story,
Of one who flew on feathered wings,
In the days filled with glory.
A boy flew high into the sky,
Chasing his dreams,
But then he found he could not fly,
And he gave out a scream.
As he fell he turned to see,
That the wings had melted,
And as he realized he gave a plea,
But by reality he was rejected.
YOU ARE READING
Of Feathered Wings
PoetryMy first post. A short three paragraph poem inspired by the story of Icarus .
