Thursday, January 29, 2015

Wings

wings indigoblue

Wings of ink expanding,
silent body held,
feathered grace demanding;
so we all are called.

Held in world material,
cold and hard beneath,
silent in its judgement;
angels at our feet.

Drawn upon the moment,
traced in dusted call,
tears do course eternal;
grieve because we fell.

http://margoroby.com/2015/01/27/poem-tryouts-take-wing/

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About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
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