The Clinging Type

With outstretched grip and clinging legs he gripped upon the glass

Though wings he had he would not use lest he release the mass

In torrent winds and contrar' flow he held with all his might

though ripped and shuttered in the breeze he knew that he was right

He shaln't release, he must here cling for fear of what might be

Should he let go he does not know what shall become of he

So with his grip he bears the winds and readies for the flow

And though the torrent rip him sore he will not let it go

But soon the vale increase in speed and beats upon his brow

One leg then two begin release to stop he knows not how

With final grasp and desperate plea he clings with all he has

Until the winds wrest him away from clinging to the glass

Once free he sighs at his defeat for his preserving lack

he beats upon his battered chest for his disabled slack

Just then his wings project and stretch and he begins to fly

With ease he sores and manages the ever wondering skies

What is it then that he doth hold that beats upon his brow

and tangles him with fearful grip, release he knows not how?

Reminding him that he has wings with which that he may fly

and letting go will only lead to future wondering skies