(16.03.89 / Doncaster, England)

Poems of Daegal

Sins Of A Father

Locked away for uncertain time,
Mindful of King Minos’ crime,
In a tower that stretch’d high beyond,
And hope of escape was something fond,
But soon he jointly tied the plume,
Large and small, within the room,
He quickly made, of wax and thread,
A set of wings which proudly spread.

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