Soaring, cutting through the sky. Flying high, almost running far from the eye,
To see.
Missing home
Going alone
Rocking to and fro
As they bleed out.
Loving them,
Hoping then,
Fleeting.
So quick
Feeling sick
Wanting it,
To stop.
Soaring, cutting through the sky.
Falling from high,
Being seen by every eye,
Like
A fleeting dove...