As upon this page,
I can think of a cliff on a mountain top,
The fluttering of wings takes to flight,
As the cold chill of the wind's air
Breezes past the feathered body
That coasts along the ocean floor.
It soars into the heat of the sun on top of the clouds above
Watching the ocean seas as they drift along
In small easy waves.
Is that the eyes of an eagle
Watching through those clouds above?
Then within a flap of a wing
The eagle disappears into the clouds of imagination
Never to be seen again,
Unless this poem has been read once more.
***This was the very first poem I had ever written back when poetry was first introduced to me by my english teacher in grade 7 back in 1992/1993***