Icarus' Spirit

Waves crash against sun-moulded rocks,

Seagulls fly majestically through the air,

Swooping down upon suspected prey,

Sunbeams reflect the beauty of the waves…

You pick me up and we fly.

Fly past the feathers still floating,

Lightly slicing the thin air through which you fell,

The glue for your wings no longer strong,

As the once friendly sun betrays us.

Icarus' Spirit

Benita Walker

Maryborough, Australia

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  • Aryanna Aetha
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