Icaro's Fall
Little boy of golden skin,
you soar the sky on paper wings.
Don't fly so high for you may fall
into a sea of raging storm.
Little boy, eager to please
don't let your pride make you believe
that paper wings will be your keys
to freedom, joy and liberty.
Little boy, watch for the dawn
for when it comes, it brings the sun.
Don't get to close, don't fly so high
Apollo's fire is your demise.
© MoodilyLit, 2010 banner photo: With Arms Wide Open by magkraa (on Flickr)