I am

the fairy on

his bedside table

in the little glass jar.

Bits of leaves and tiny sticks

can't hide the cloth

in place of the lid.

Even if air can get in

it's still horrible

that I can't get out.

As beautiful as he is,

watching him

is no substitute

for flying.

Note: This was an assignment for my Creative Writing class. We were supposed to write I Am poems.