National Poetry Day

Impressions of a Pilot Flight is freedom in its purest form, To dance with the clouds which follow a storm; To roll and glide, to wheel and spin, To feel the joy that swells within; To leave the earth with its troubles and fly, And know the warmth of a clear spring sky; Then back to earth at the end of a day, Released from the tensions which melted away. Should my end come while I am in flight, Whether brightest day or darkest night; Spare me your pity and shrug off the pain, Secure in the knowledge that I'd do it again; For each of us is created to die, And within me I know, I was born to fly. — Gary Claud Stokor
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