edited poem

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Adam Piontek 2021-05-05 15:01:52 -04:00
parent f5ba40e9ba
commit 57843a8ebd

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@ -24,10 +24,10 @@ rough implement cracking feathers?
Did I scrap their sick crumpled span
somewhere lost?
Maybe I still feel something there.
Maybe I still feel something.
I used to dream of flight, soaring free.
Dips and curls and swoops,
graceful landings, inviting horizons.
Dancing dips and flips,
graceful landings, long horizons.
But who would love my winged majesty?
They were more danger than delight.