The Wind Beneath These Wings

A painting, of warm summer winds,

unfurling feathers, and sea salt beaches,

sunsets and rises

Within me a feeling that washes

away the winter cold.

Tie-dye coloured are the days.

Hope stained is my heart again,

as my heart within that one cries caution

Which I throw

to the whispering high winds

that caress and carry me

to mountains high

Not to conquer nor climb

But shout from the rooftop of the world

in living colour: This Bird flies!

Sprouting wings to cross me this bridge;

any paths and all walks of life

By and by, lives begin and they end.

But to pass me this chasm of solitude:

Edge to edge sky scraping wings,

soaring and sailing

on that most salient wind.