Old longings nomadic leap,
Chafing at custom's chain;
Again from its brumal sleep
Wakens the ferine strain.
John Myers O'Hara
Where Will I Be?
Ages pass in the palm of the hands that build tiny planes
What did he say - The builder of dreams and wings?
That he would return,
Moments before he went away.
He lived in the Flatlands four years and more
Now he moves to another land,
Where is it this powerful place
With a deep sin, a calling and a long face?
Now he has a new table, a new home
A love from the other side of the old continent.
The planes call him again to the 'drome
A soft sound a whisper to make him content.
New rules play in his troubled mind
New colors new stories new flights
He misses his friends and comrades
His dear adversaries under his sights.
Where is this land?
Will he stay?
Will he return?
Was he really away?
Joaquim
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