Red-Winged BeautyThere it stands, an organized arrangement of crimson feathers,
A golden yellow beak slicing through the horizon like a knife.
One could only imagine the feeling of security,
That stroking the feathers would provide.
The shining, glistening eyes stare at you.
A feeling develops inside that makes the world stop,
And all of your trouble is lifted off of you,
Done in a single moment of calmness.
The soft hues of red blend with the olive green leaves of the uniform wooden soldiers,
Making you wonder if something can be so still, and still be alive.
Its beauty leaves you, and the rest of the world staring,
Waiting for the beauty to regain vitality.
[TABLE OF CONTENTS, LHS CLASS OF 2013 EDITION]
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