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When I was little I thought in the wind I could fly,
But now I just listen from inside,
Confined to the house,
Stuck to the ground,
Mourning the flight that I never found.

But what if i choose to rejoice in the sound?
Rejoice in the rush of the leaves falling down,
For though I remain in my crystalline box,
The wind still hums,
The earth never stops.

Copyright © Frances Pasteque