On Seagull’s Wings

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Skin turns to ashes,
pink clouds in the sky.
Lightening that flashes,
with thundering cries.
Beer brewed and packaged,
it’s well worth a try.
The weight has been lifted,
it’s time now to fly.

Wings have been granted,
away as we go.
Seeds has been planted,
watch down as they grow.
Together in tandem,
an open window.
The weight has been lifted,
if you listen you’ll know.

A jumpsuit of feathers,
a smile of light.
Through inclement weather,
with fear not in sight.
The pride felt by seagulls,
of those yet in flight.
The weight has been lifted,
and all is alright.

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