The Flight of Thomas Morray

Written by: regina branham

Thomas Morray was a friend of mine He had this obsession with wanting to fly He began to study the skeletons of birds which provided his volcabulary with the strangest of words He professed he longed for his sternum to be fused, so to strengthen his muscles, when in flight he would use; these conversations left me oddly amused and to be quite frank, very confused I mis-understood his studies to be for fabrication; of metal, paper or other type construction; I began to believe he himself a bird-brain, I thought it was some sort of mental type strain I visited Thomas Morray twice a week, at the place where he lived; listened to his stories of birds and of twigs Until, on one stop, the nurses said Thomas is ready to die I bent down and whispered, "Now's your chance, Thomas Morray, Fly, fly, fly"