Started To Fly Poem by John McCornack
Started To Fly
Every morning I try to travel some red dirt roads
I always listen closely to what they have to say
Normally red dirt roads are very safe to travel
Until one morning a motorcycle started my way
My guiding voice said this may be your end
You my friend have traveled your last mile,
All of a sudden the motorcycle started to fly
As it flew over my head, all I could do is smile
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/1/2024 12:33:20 AM # 1.0.0.1119
