Wing Repair Poem by Chris Lane
Wing Repair
She stood, her toes gripping the cliff edge
Each and every morning for six months long.
Stretching her wings allowing the warm up draughts
To catch, elevate and stretch, strengthen and mend
Her weakened wings.
At last there came a day.
Her toes gripping tightly
The rocky cliff face, she up rosé softly
soaring, carried away!
Having had completed wing repair.
© Calac
One almost feels non-existing clipped wings reinstated, in spite of just being a human poetry-loving two-footer, when taking to intuiting the meaning of the words in this uplifting poem of yours!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 9:30:53 PM # 1.0.0.1119
love this, my imagination running wild...Maggie