The Phoenix
Your scarlet, sacred wings doth spread.
Plumes of fire and of gold.
Your past burnt ashes you do not dread.
Your majestic rise is long foretold.
Not bound by your destined fate,
Your glorious ascend we do await.
With courage and boldness in your eyes,
From flames of doom you do arise.
Copyright © Michael G. Weston | Year Posted 2014
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