HmzaQmr

Some days I find myself staggering from this hovel; To stand with shaking legs upon the window ledge. I look down at the tiny world below, wind rushing before me; And I wonder if I'll be able to fly tonight... The caress of the wind, so gentle upon my skin. One step, one leap and I'd dip myself into the eye of the storm. But just before my courage sends me; Just before I take the final plunge. I find myself looking back, at the world I'd leave behind... Stacks of paper and a pot of ink, Reams of stories too precious to burn. Ideas and fears both rolled into one; And pages of poetry left undone... It always leaves me smiling... For these