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Oct 2011
A cold wind blowing across his face
His mind lost in thought
Eyes seeming hollow as he looks over the cliff
Forever searching looking for the lost
Dark red feathers in the wind
Stepping off the edge falling
Faster toward the rocks
Out of control
The water rushing up
Moments before he opens four large wings
They catch the air pockets slowing his fall
Toward the horizon he flies in the night air
William P Markwalder
557
 
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