Monday, September 19, 2005

Waxwing Confession

You always did warn me
about flying too close
to the sun

These wings are made of wax
Your every touch seems to melt
Reminding me that you
are forever out of reach

I flew too high
tried to taste the sun
my lips got singed
my wings merely feathers
held on by a layer of wax
that drips from my arms as I dare
to embrace your firey form

Covered in wax
you pull from me
I slowly soar down
forever earthbound
by that one glorious night
I was burnt by the sun

Ed Kidhardt

6:22 PM

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