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Donald R. Krick Jr.


Utica, NY, US

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On Wings of Love


Donald R. Krick Jr.

The Lady walked amid the ruins
where Winterwind played discordant tunes
through broken windows, shattered panes,
and only Death's Bequest remains.
She saw around her battered homes,
a place of Life stripped to bones.
And so she walked with fragile pace,
Through that morbid, dying place.
She trailed her gaze, and breathed a sigh,
and sadness welled a tear in her eye.
For once, she knew, this place was whole,
but neglect and abuse had taken their toll.
She shed her tears with heavy heart,
and slowly, sadly, began to depart.
When through the wind she heard a sound.
A voice was calling! She turned around.
Hastening toward the sound she heard,
she came upon a crippled bird.
A sign of hope in a desolate land!
She knelt and offered a loving hand.
The bird looked up, just scarce alive:
"I've prayed that someone would arrive.
Please don't leave me here to die.
Hold me, heal me, help me fly?"
She gently cradled the shivering thing,
and tenderly stroked a broken wing.
The Magic of Love poured from her soul,
and soon the broken wing was whole.
Then upon his head she kissed him soft,
and held the bird up high aloft.
"Fly my Love! Come with me!
There is beauty in the world to see!"
And off they went as Lover's do.
She walked beneath as her lovebird flew.
He soared the skies, danced high above.
She laughed and sang him songs of Love.
It's safe to tell you now, I know,
just what this tale was meant to show:
the Place of Ruins is where I've been,
and all of the heartache I have seen.
And the bird who soars so high above,
is only me on Wings of Love.
And you should know that this is true:
The Lady who walks with me . . . is you.