RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Memory Of The Eagle
Eagles of midnight flow over me, soaring into the
Disappearing before I can hold them in my mind, a
beautiful sight also eluding me.
Dreaming into the night, wondering if I'll ever
hold that eagle or it's spirit before I finally
Knowing that nothing else in life is important,
except that memory of the eagle at midnight, an
omen of tomorrow's riches in destiny's hands.
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Comments about this poem (Memory Of The Eagle by RoseAnn V. Shawiak )
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