As I watch their wings flap with eerie flaps;
Colorful is the calm midnight.
As I stand here on the brink of a new day.
As they circle around with ample maneuvers
And rising towards the heavenly front,
Littered with countless stars, like flowers in a tamed garden.
It might be an illusion, but here I am glad,
Indulging in their innocent flares of zeal.
They must be lost wandering in the dead of the night,
Like sailors with no compass.
Despite the frequent gale that veers them of course,
Their steadfast wings still flap fastidiously;
As they rise towards the sky, to spend a day in the heavens.
A poem by Tonny Wandella