Idle thoughts,
	Like rain
	Gliding softly
	Down a window pane,
	Wander through
	The empty corridors
	Of my mind
	But there do not
	Find a home.
	Like an empty sky
	Am I,
	Clear and ocean-deep
	In sleep, dreaming
	Eagle-thoughts a-wheeling;
	Feeling fiery wind
	Bend my youth,
	Trying to make a man
	Where before
	Only boy had been.


© Fred O'Bryant. All rights reserved.

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