Such Wings

-We all want to fly-

We dream of having flown.

And stories pass across the air,

of secret wings.


When I told you that I flew,

you looked at me,

with a gaze that was hardly there.

So I added detail, like a proof.

I said:

my wings were silver.

You glanced away and down.

I said,

the gray on them was like

harbours in the morning.

(Your smile bent under strain).

I told you, their undersides

were brown even before

I stumbled and and fell

in the mud -

(but I got back up.)

You pitied me,

but I told you,

of how I made flight

from something other than cliché and hope and sincerity,

told you of my materials,

my method and velocity.

From such firm ground,

you launched yourself to sky -

I saw your eyes go bright,

and far, and high.

This poem is for child_dragon, , because her piece 'A Dream of Mine' inspired it. ^!^