Not to very long before midnight
I laid in bed awake, restless
Thinking and almost dreaming.
Overhead, in the deepest dark
I heard the honk, hink, cry
Of geese flying over my roof.
They are already returning
Perhaps never did go
And I wonder, where do you go?
Why do you fly in the dark of night?
Wither thou goest, little goosey?
As I drift and almost dream
Sometime during the midnight
I wished to follow them
To rise up and fly away
To see the world from up high
To go, explore, seek, lead
Not follow, not cry from behind
To fly.
No comments:
Post a Comment