With the Clouds, I'll Wipe it Clean
Leonardo then drew it very well,
on ancient papers, so long ago,
As the feathered flying creatures,
in modeling their shapes, to show.
The Wright Brothers of Kitty Hawk,
and the astronauts of today,
Know the world of flying high,
as the birds in skies, do play.
In times of old, in attempts so bold,
to rise and meet the clouds,
To join the feathered brethren there,
in removing all the shrouds.
To kiss the sky, then to wipe away,
the tears of all fond regrets,
Using white clouds, in azure skies,
as the angels, to each, so lets.
To dip and glide in joys untold,
to spread my anxious wings, I must,
I'll reach the pillared mists, at last,
beyond the brilliant heights, to trust.
I'll greet the dawn in its reds and golds,
mixed on a canvas of beautiful hues,
Breathe in the finest breaths of airs,
as the mornings fog, so subdues.
It's then my voyage, so far exceeds,
a rocket ship's greatest of trips,
When I blast away to heaven's gates,
in escaping the earthly grips.
My brethren of the feathered kind,
will all to welcome my company,
As we share the space and to embrace,
the splendors that we each can see.
While stars to sparkle in night skies,
joined by the moon's silvery light,
A marvelous combination of each,
is this intrigue, the miracles of flight.
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