Colin F. Jones

GOODBYE

A small eagle sours through grey clouds,
The red sun rising beyond their shrouds,
And winging free with feathers outspread,
She flies beyond their fear and dread.
To where silver mountains tower high,
Above mystic plains where mist nymphs sigh;
Where red dust rises from hammering hooves.
As the great Warriors’ horses etch their grooves,
And on a peak beyond the streams,
Where love is painted from the spirits dreams,
Two Eagles wait upon their nest,
To where the small one flies to take her rest…
And the red sun rises… far away…
Thus is born another day.

©Copyright October 1, 2003 by Colin F. Jones