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Mar 2013
As I pass this holy place
I see a flock of birds emerge
Clad in black they set their pace
As each of them diverge

They fly away on separate paths
And all have soon cleared out
All but one who stands alone
Perched upon a quiet hill

He glances up into the sky
Like a friend he terribly misses
He stretches and prepares to fly
To feel the warm cloud's kisses

He surges forward off the hill
But suddenly is held back
He plummets down against his will
And clashes with a crack
This one actually isn't finished, I just like where it is right now, and once I can figure out where else to go with it, I will post this.
Seth Bennett
Written by
Seth Bennett  Ohio
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