Little Wings

little wings lifted me from burning mud cleared my lungs of flotsam... of living breathed her soul into my destiny now I'm flying somewhat free but through all golden gates heavy tolls must always be paid... little wings were broke and singed the 'lift" weighted by the smoke of my ill thought and sincere sins. now little wings struggles in the burning mud gazing at me with sweet desperation no hint nor hope or expectations she knows our stony history. I fly off to a place called, far away, where nothing worthwhile ever stays and unanswered questions sip on the nectar of gray