Way atop a pine tree. Where the view is truly grand. I felt the wind rush by me. And gently touch my hand. It sought only my attention. With it's gentle, brushing blow. My soul longed to be with it. Heading to where it had to go. So I leaped from my pine tree. Flapped my arms with all my might. But I did not have the wings. To chase the wind in flight. So here I lie in hospital. My bones all broken in two. I realize now, thought it's to late. It was a stupid thing to do.
Reason for writing:
The truth is a strange thing at times. Is it not????
Birth sign: Not entered
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