She stands
alone, staring out the glass doors
that stand between her and the cold-
the odd, heavy cold that hangs in the air
like dead summer heat
that froze.

The clouds are shades of gray,
but you can’t see them.
they paint the entire sky dark.
there is no sunlight
to bring a smile
and the rain falls-
not because he wants to,
but gravity dictates he must.
wind's a rebel,
and gently blows to keep the rain
from falling too hard (he can’t deny
the earth, but can fight at least.)

“You know, I used to want wings more badly than anything. I still do-but it’s different. I used to think of how amazing it would be to escape the world any time you want to-just spread your wings, and you’re gone. No one could catch you-go to the only place where it’s truly silent, you’re truly alone. Or to be able to express such joy-imagine it! All we can do, bound to the earth, is run. But to be able to leave the ground-there would be nothing stopping you! No dirt, sticking to your heels and pulling you back down, no hills to slow your stride... but it wouldn’t be perfect. Not like I’d imagined it, anyway. It would be cold. There would be nothing to shield you from the biting chill that in the clouds; no clothes could guard against that-only having another body, another person to hold close and keep you warm, and to give warmth to in return. That would be perfect. But, having wings alone? That would be lonely-and so cold…”

she sighs
heavy like the air-
why does gravity call her so?
the wind,
so sweet,
the smallest gift that the world could give
but just enough.
Just enough to give her a dream
but not to keep her warm.