The Wind

The wind takes wings
as  we    fly into it,
never  moving       forward,
not ideal; seems fit.

No       destination
with  our young age.
Although, only height,
there's more   freedom than a     cage.

 This wind will    die,
And we'll  no longer  soar
with  fun&play.
we'll live for less;    for more.

This wind will take wings
as  we   fly with it,
only moving forward,
it's ideal; seems fit.

© 2010 The Still Air

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