Thursday, May 5, 2011

I COULD FLY A PLANE



She only spoke when we were alone;
and like a statue on a pedestal of stone,
she held a secret and would not let go.

One night I dreamt I saw her cloaked in a purple hood,
her hands clutching a cross made of wood.
I heard her whimper. I heard her sigh,

and then I heard her say goodbye.
I could sail the ocean.
I could ride the waves and the foam

(head in hand and with my eyes wide open).
I could wander the planet. I could fly a plane.
But I will never find my way back to her again.




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