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Helicopter Graveyard

The mechanical birds with broken wings, Rust together with lofty dreams... That they will yet fly again, In a cloudless sky, in which to tend. But for now, They are parked like cars, Lined up neatly, In a helicopter graveyard. Sale signs do adorn, Many of their windows... But even just for parts, Freedom again, they will never know. So in this place, you'll find no gravestones, Just metal friends, in their unknown. 19-September-2021

Copyright © | Year Posted 2021




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Date: 9/22/2021 11:15:00 AM
Picturing your helicopter graveyard. Things have a purpose for a while, but eventually all things…rust…die.
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Robert James Liguori
Date: 10/7/2021 3:52:00 PM
Yup. Circle of life!
Date: 9/21/2021 4:39:00 AM
Kind Of Sad Really. It's like the auto graveyard. If only they could talk and tell us of the many exciting adventures they have had. Good job here. Very creative. God Bless, JB
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Robert James Liguori
Date: 10/7/2021 3:53:00 PM
Yes, the stories they could tell!

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry