Poetry for Africa Book 1 by ScobaXL - HTML preview

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SILVER SHIPS

 

There are trails that a lad may follow

When the years of his boyhood slip,

But I shall soar like a swallow

On the wings of a silver ship,

Guiding my bird of metal,

One with her throbbing frame,

Floating down like a petal,

Roaring up like a flame;

Winding the wind that scatters,

Smoke from the chimney’s lip,

Tearing the cloud to tatters

With the wings of a silver ship;

Grazing the broad blue sky light

Up where the falcons fare,

Riding the realms of twilight,

Brushed by a comet’s hair;

Snug in my coat of leather,

Watching the skyline swing,

Shedding the world like a feather

From the tip off a tilted wing.

There are trails that a lad may travel

When the years of his boyhood wane,

But I’ll let a rainbow ravel

Through the wings of my silver plane.

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