Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Sightseeing-Alex Duchac

Flying,
Or as the sensation,
A bird must feel.

Gliding,
My fin cuts the water,
As a fish must feel.

A tree,
white pine, towering,
then gone.

A bridge,
Newly made, wood still whpale,
away in a flash.

A waterfall,
sparkles, frozen in mid drip,
a glimmer passed

My skis,
Skates on the finest ice,
Pushing me forward.

My happiness,
Swelling me,
Making me full.

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