Swords Poem by Dillon McKenna

Oh how I would watch those wings on high,
In the spring of our bitter youth,
That flapped against the ashen sky
To find a place to roost.

In my mind the vision is still so clear,
The duels of floating swords,
That thrust there and parried here
High in the ancient queen's court.

Oh how I would joy to see those wings,
Yet visions are all that remain
Of the time we could do anything,
A time before we were tamed.