Wings

  

sky for prose

                  Wings

You used to look up at me
and say the darndest things
“where do you think we would fly to
if only we had wings?”
You would yank at my sleeve
and ask with your blue eyes
Daddy, what do you think a bird thinks
the first time that it flies?”

Outside on the front lawn
father and daughter birds
arms spread and eyes closed
no need for words
After our five minute flight
crisscrossing on air
we would sit on the step
ready to share

“I really love the mountains,
and landing at the top
soaring off a ledge
to where the blue doesn’t stop.”
“I like going really really high,
as high as I can fly
higher than the clouds
to the top of the sky.”

Closing our eyes again
to imagine each others flight
one to the distance
one to the highest height
The bird just feels free
no worries and no fear
It was nice for us to know
that we could always land here  

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