I wonder, soaring through the sky,
why some despair and life forsake.
For from my vantage way up high,
the choice made clear which path to take.
I cannot say ’twas always so.
Far down, among the sage and gorse,
the glint of gold caused me to slow,
and lose my way, to my remorse.
But winter came, cold, harsh and bleak,
and brought...
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