The Sound of Flight
Beyond a fine facade of cloud,
Her spirit struts across the air.
In welkin's eviternal shroud,
She wears her hopes upon her hair
Like jewels that sultry visions bring
Of foreign skies where wishes wing.
A chain of prayers adorns a chest
That fortune's fickle rays have scarred.
It shimmers through with futures blessed
By shifty strands of vague regard.
Below it rests a painted clasp
Of hues that wait before her grasp.
A brace of metal hugs her wrist.
It bears a gem upon its face
That twinkles with each moment's twist
To gird for time's mechanic pace.
The formless tricks of fate's reveal
Reflect within its fluid steel.
No sooth assaults her free delight.
It's lost amid the sound of flight.