Fate dancing in the air;

Slowly letting go.

Winters-dregs’ fog engulfing the air,

For thy despair is fair.

Where is it headed?

Up in the blue?

Millions are sent every day,

But I pray mine shall stay.

No loth to go and chase;

The breeze brushing my hair.

My conscience pacing back and forth,

Wondering if we will meet again.

Looking up, I see;

Close to the stars, my dream.

I stand back and admire;

You are with them now,

Goodbye my sweet flare.