Through the storms and over the hills
I run through the breeze and daffodils
I’m far from home
But I’m blind with hope
I won’t go back till I succeed
And reach the place where I must be
I fly high and
Cut through the sky
I fall to earth, six thousand times
But I believe that I can fly
And cut through the breeze
I own the sky, because I believe I can fly
Madras Courier originally ran as a broadsheet with a poetry section. It was a time when readers felt comfortable sharing glimpses of their lives through verse. If you have a poem you’d like to submit, do email us at editor@madrascourier.com.
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