Flying
Flying
My feathers would flutter in the wind, past the angels and the moon
The wings would lift me off this place called Earth.
I would drift high into the sky...
I want glide high above the highest buildings.
I'd be beautiful.
I'd be a miracle.
My wings feel as soft as satin
Softer than the softest velvet.
I'd fly from coast to coast
From Pole to Pole.
Nothing would stop me
not even the harsh winds of Chicago.
Further than they thought I would go.
Not stopping for shouts in the places of war.
I'd never stop
I’d be far away from everyone else.
adrenaline rushing through my veins.
from the wind furling my soft feathers.
I’m awoken to the buzz of an alarm clock.
And begin another day without my wings
Copyright © Alice Tate | Year Posted 2011
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