Wings

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Looking at the full moon,
she's standing on the cliff's ledge,
Knows she has to leave soon,
But she's scared looking over the edge,
Knows she cannot stay,
Jumping, she plummets toward the sea,
Why bother to delay,
When what must be will be,
Hundreds of silk plumes grow
At the break of day,
Perfect pure white to begin their journey,
She grows wings and flies away.