The Crate Part Two
I heard the prop-wash as it bathed me in a gentle breeze
and my crate climbed higher high above the trees
and the sun sank below the horizon as stars command the sky
while ribbons of blue,gray and pink light danced there in my eye
and like an object in the master's painted scene
I peered down upon the town below divided by a stream
I could almost hear the church bells
and the horns of cars passing by
and my heart was filled with joy as higher I did fly
the silhouette of birds passed beneath me
in the not yet darkened night
and onward in my crate I flew as day gave way to night
as I flew a peace filled my heart that I had not known since birth
and a joy overtook me
as I sailed above the earth
I felt as though an angel with artificial wings
and when it comes to crates of wood and cloth
there are no better things than machines that man has made set between
two wings there upon a skyward stage this angelic puppet suspended on its strings
for I am but a crippled angel flying on a set of prosthetic wings
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This is part two to "THE CRATE". Still digging through old poems. What do you think?
