Flying


When I fly I feel,
the breeze creeping upon me.

I hear the birds chirping in the shallow trees.

When I fly,
I smell all the beautiful flowers blooming in the wind.

Then I catch a breath of the beautiful spring air.

But then I stop,
and take a look at the white puffy clouds above.

Me.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem