Poem Number Five

 Me again. "Wings."

It’s on days like today that I wish I had wings. 

I would burst from my prison,

Explode into the sky in a flurry of feathers and fire.

But 

I don’t have wings.

I’m trapped here,

On the ground.

It’s on mornings like these I wish I could fly.

I would soar in between the snowflakes,

Racing the wind

And chasing the clouds.

It’s in moments like this that I wish I was an eagle.

I would rule the skies, 

Riding the frigid breezes

And feeling the cold rush through my wings

As I rose upward, 

Powerful. 

I wish all these things

With all that I am,

But 

I’m not an eagle.

I don’t have wings.

And I can’t fly. 

But I can soar.