Onward Poem by James Woodleaf

Joe was small, weak
It was getting harder
Harder to stay in the air
But still Joe flew onward

the pain, war, everywhere
men, falling, a bloody sky
no ones left but him
still, but still Joe flew onward

The wind, nice wind
Brushing against his face
His wings, red, flowing
Still, still, Joe flew onward

captured, tortured, beaten
falling, failing at the mission
the wings, red, flowing
joe, alone, must still fly onward