The wind beneath my wings,
it has a voice to me.
The breeze, it sings, it sings!
The air that sways the swings,
that makes children soar free,
is the wind beneath my wings.
Inhaled by ancient kings,
filled with poison we can’t see.
But the breeze still sings, yes it sings.
Oh, what peace it brings.
Grace found within me.
The wind beneath my wings.
“I’m tired of these buildings!
I want to smell the sea!”
The breeze it sings, it sings!
The beauty in all things,
coming from a tree.
The wind beneath my wings.
The breeze, it sings, it sings!
About the Creator
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The Devil's Triangle
The sails ruffled in the breeze as we cruised along. The Sea Breeze was a mid-size catamaran that sailed out of Royal Naval Dockyard in Bermuda. We had booked this trip weeks in advance and were now looking at our Captain, Spike and two boat hands. Paddy and Wilson seemed like nice guys, joking around with the passengers and telling us some stories about Bermuda that only locals would know. Their island accents sounded almost British but they were pleasant to listen to.
By Barbara Gode Wilesabout 23 hours ago in Fiction
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