take my hand and climb with me…

seventy four degrees: ‘like birds on high…’

Beyond The Sea ~ Bobby Darin

seventy four

Wind spirals, howling. Blows birds, to feathers. Angels, soaring. Swallows, sapphire wing’d. Ruby, chest. Ever circling, ancient tree. Willow pattern, blue. For kindred lovers, true. So we must die, and dying: live. On, in other forms. No mortal hand, distance or doubt. May come between, souls so entwined. Blood, drums will name. A chosen course, to follow through. Til ends of earth., or ending time.

My heart will lead me there…

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This entry was posted on December 13, 2012 by in Spring and tagged , , , , , , , .


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