Flock of Geese

Thoughts travel again
To the Moon and back
On that special lane

That’s only seen
From a distant flock
Of geese so clean

And white once more
It’s on their way
To hit the score

When late at night
The great illusion
Is out of sight

In thoughts we travel
To the stars so far
Fulfilled with gravel

In those walking boots
To horizon endings
For some lasting roots.

    © Dominik Alexander / 2019

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