Disclaimer: Some content is inappropriate for readers under 18 years of age or those offended by swear words, references to sexuality, atheism, and libertarianism.

Friday, September 14, 2007

Paper Wings.

Paper Wings

Scabby knees and a frilly dress, I stood smiling at the moon,
Certain the sparrow's secret would be mine all too soon.

On my back- a pair of paper wings, tied to me with string,
Skin tingling at hopes the night would surely bring,

A runway of roughly laid concrete lay beneath my toes.
I wiped the sweat from my hands onto my beaded, smudged, worn clothes.

Old Man! Proud moon! You won't escape me this time!
Crouched, then sprung, I began my celestial climb.

I ran until my heart was fit to burst in my chest,
I paused to check on my progress and snatch a little rest.

The woman I would become spoke in a voice so very clear:
I'm sorry, little girl, you'll never fly, my dear.

I smiled at the voice and agreed It's true, I'll never fly,
But gosh isn't it such great fun, if only just to try?


ra said...

icarus minus the wax, eh?

is this yours?

TeacherLady said...

Only I never took off, but I was content in my pursuit!
I know it was very adolescent and girly of me to post poetry, but I felt like it.