Another poem made late into the hours of the night after a wonderful evening of dancing and revelry. A game we try to play, folded words on paper that come and go, into the flow.
Words that just won’t come together,
But then again, birds fly, on their feathers.
Like 8am clouds, grey as heather,
They carry on, no matter the weather.
Always looking forward, never dwelling
On the past. Past is the present,
Present is living.
Future is always a new adventure.
So, keep moving forward,
Never look back.
Let your heart stay light
As your mind takes flight.
Always keep a goal, in sight.
A positive mind is key.
So gather round and listen ye,
Travelers, lovers and animals.