The pink flowers bloom on a Saturday morning producing sweet smelling pollen that fills the air. The Snowdrops are stretching their petals as they wake up and sing. I see all these things from far above. I fly high above the world, no one can see me at all. I touch the clouds with my delicate wings. I fly past the grasslands sweeping down to the trees. Landing on the branches and looking at the world. The graveyards appear as I fly very near, the dead come to life and dance...
On a Saturday Morning.
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