Swallows travel in and out,
And other's places that you know.
Wing's spread wide bearing all,
To that place that men know well.
Underneath or there above like
Perfume in the wind, around one's head.
Where it is it and you are you and
I have been around there to.
Where mushrooms grow where it is dark,
And rain has been there to.
Above a cloud that's really low, where here
The sun shines through.
Flying through her finger tips, each swallow
Travels in and out.
And there out yonder over hills, we see
The swallow like the moon at night,
Do what swallows will.
Copyright © James McLain | Year Posted 2017
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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