Fly high,
Soar,
Roam,
Be free.
Let the wind twist itself
Around your leathery fingers
And up your sun tainted arms.
Let the rising sun warm your face,
Your dusty brown hair,
And your soul.
Think of me when you fly above
The mesas in New Mexico,
The grand mountains in Colorado,
The rocky cliffs of California,
And the autumntime hills of Kentucky.
For I will think of you
When I see those things,
Among many others.
I will think of you forever.
YOU ARE READING
CCCLXV - Poetry (Part 2)
PoesíaPart 2 of my 365--this year: 366--challenge. A poem a day for a year.
