The Lion's Book: A Poetry Collection

Journey In The Sky

Flying, I am flying

and soaring high as well.

The wind- my trusty carrier,

impossible to quell.

Like combs of gentle fingers,

it flows through all my mane,

like a loving mother

whose affection does not wane.

To close my amber eyes

would be the greatest waste.

For the world I see below

speeds by me without haste.

I hear a bird that flutters

its wings and and sings a song

with enough grace and melody

to last the whole day long.

The trees below me shake

and do a warming dance,

but booming thunder from above

breaks me out of the trance.

I barely dodge a crack

of lightning as it strikes-

so heated like a fire

that it leaves my hair in spikes.

I ought to make my landing,

bid farewell to my friend-

the lightly colored atmosphere

whose frontier knows no end.

I feel my body falling-

along with all the rain

that's dropping to the world below-

returning to the pain.

Returning to the hatred,

the war and poverty

is something that I must do

no matter how I plea.

I surely don't belong here,

my home is on the ground,

but it is in the big blue sky

where I feel safe and sound.

I hover lightly over

a jungle, kelly green,

allowing all the raindrops

to gently wash me clean.

I rest onto my feet

and brush past a large fern,

but when I glance up at the sky

I know I'll soon return.