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.
