to P., 26
Fly high, fly low, my bird. From now
till night there’ll be a signal to steer by,
somewhere to be, a winging-on; despite
the giant handfuls of vapour in the sky.
Share away:
Fly high, fly low, my bird. From now
till night there’ll be a signal to steer by,
somewhere to be, a winging-on; despite
the giant handfuls of vapour in the sky.